


A (Casual) Affair

by Vehn



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Roy x Ed - Fandom, RoyEd - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Roy x Ed - Freeform, RoyEd Week, ed x roy, edroy - Freeform, royed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:50:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8146402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vehn/pseuds/Vehn
Summary: ' 'Stay for as long as you have timeSo the mess that we'll becomeLeaves something to talk aboutJust lay in the atmosphereA casual affair (Hush-hush, don't you say a word)Lay in the atmosphereA casual affair'The new bartender at Roy's usual bar proves to be a bit more problematic and enigmatic for Roy's once typical Playboy front. Modern AU RoyEd, I am trash, so are you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU, it's just a few chapter fan fic, maybe five part, we'll see :)

“Hey! Roy!” 

That’s what he always heard right before that particular pair of heels rang loudest in the crowd. Sometimes there would be a flash of a slender arm in his peripheral or that subtle commercial grade hair flip that was meant to be ‘casual’ before the cloud of perfume would hit. 

Maybe she would smile. Maybe her hair was long enough to spill on the bar top. Maybe her dress would be just skimpy enough to suggest the color of her bra or the fact that there wasn’t any bra at all. 

She would laugh on cue. Her movements would be smooth, fluid and very well calculated, as she would lure him to the bathroom, her room, but never his room. He wasn’t that kind of guy after all just like tonight she isn’t that kind of girl.

Because she isn’t a she at all, she is a he. A six-foot he with a 90’s slicked back hairstyle and rectangle frames that reflected the dim lighting. He is Maes Hughes and he is not an aspiring model dying to find her next in with one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. These sorts of settings never were befitting of Hughes, he looked too much like a dad now to blend in like he did back in the golden years. His suits were clearly a bit too worn with a stain or two most likely caused from the three year old running rampant at home. The frames on his nose were a bit too small for him because he hasn’t had time to change them since the birth of said two year old. And there was always a faint odor of his wife’s perfume mixed with Cheerios whenever he was around. 

“Hughes.” He smiles as he lifts his whiskey, “You exist past nine? Isn’t it bedtime?”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” The scraping of the barstool consumes his attention for a split second, “The girls are out of town for the next two weeks to visit Gracia’s mother.   
She just had that hip replacement and needs all hands on deck apparently.”

Roy frowns, “Why didn’t you take off?”

“Because Gracia’s mother kinda scares me in ways I did not know a person could.” He leans a bit on the counter glancing around, “No bartender?”

“Not as of late. He kind of evaporated.” 

“Weird.” He settles back into his seat, “So how’s things been at the business?”

“You know how things are, you work there.”

“Yeah, just wanted to hear bossman’s input.”

“Bossman.” Roy snorts from behind his glass, “Sure. It’s fine, Riza keeps me on my work, Bradley looms over like those fucking parade balloons I don’t like.”

“Fucking?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, did you just saying ‘fucking’?”

“Yeah, why?”

A knowing smirk starts to spread on Hughes’ lips, “Been sleeping with some filthy mouthed girl this week?”

“Actually, I’ll have you know I haven’t had anything like that for awhile.” Roy admits thoughtfully, a chunk of ice slumps in the glass.

Hughes snorts, “You not sleeping with someone is unheard of. Are you sick?”

“No.”

“You must be to be celibate for this long. It’s unlike you.” Hughes drums his fingers on the countertop then edges a bit close, “You mind sharing that? Since the bartender is currently gone.”

“Sure.” He pushes his half consumed scotch to his friend who eagerly tosses it back with a satisfied sigh. 

Roy Mustang was not ‘celibate’ by choice as of late, if he could indulge in his usual past time he would. But since the most recent weekend’s escapades and the weekend before that, which started this downward spiral of royally fucking him over emotionally, he couldn’t bring himself to take up more than generous offers from the more than gorgeous women. He tried. Oh damn, he fucking tried. He’d take that delicate hand tracing obscure patterns on his bicep and lead her to the bathroom, private rooms, anywhere but couldn’t get back heavy make out sessions until he pretended to be too drunk. ‘It would be unprofessional.’ He’d force himself to slur, ‘And unfair to you for me to be this…reckless.’ The women usually took his excuse as chivalry and would kindly help him back to the bar and order a glass of water or coffee to help sober him up. This was the game he found himself playing and it was a game he was getting tired of, so he was now opting for the workaholic excuse. Which wasn’t much of an excuse given he found himself consumed with the paperwork of his deceased father’s multi-billion dollar business to distract him. 

It was two weeks ago this mess began to fester, at this same bar. He had taken a seat, ordered his same drink but for some reason locked eyes with the bartender. The bartender was young; he looked like he was eighteen by his stature, but his face appeared more aged than eighteen and the weight in his eyes were near ancient. He was polishing a glass as he slid the bar menu to Roy. Roy hadn’t heard what he said; those golden eyes that somehow gleamed in the dim lighting captivated him. The bartender was blond, his skin had a slight tan to it and he had a strange bulky limberness to his petite frame. He was delicate, strong, dangerous and not Roy’s usual taste. But this was a man he would gladly ignore his heterosexual orientation for.

The bartender had snapped something at him, probably around the lines of, ‘You going to stare at me all night or order, bub?’

Roy ordered a scotch and the bartender’s number. 

He only got the scotch.

Like a Grade-A stalker Roy loitered outside until the bartender got off. He let him walk a few steps to watch that golden ponytail sway in the cold wind before feigning a run as if he was trying to catch up to him. 

‘Hey! I think you dropped this.’

The bartender turned around, brows raised in question.

Roy handed him his business card, ‘I’d like to get a drink with you sometime. I liked the conversation you held with the customers-’

The bartender stared at the card, ‘No.’ was all he said before turning back around, ‘Follow me after my shift again and I’ll fucking kick your ass.’

Roy followed him the night after. The bartender held to his word in the form of a rough punch to Roy’s chest. They got a in a scuffle and somehow reached a compromise of Roy buying the bartender dinner. The bartender ate his weight in seafood pasta in a small Italian place on the East Side then left Roy in the restaurant pretending to go to the bathroom.

The third night as the bartender was getting off his shift he asked if Roy was up for dinner again. ‘Only if you stay through dessert.’ Roy counteracted, getting a short laugh that made him experience something close to a high.

They walked out together that night. They got dinner together that night. They somehow got drunk that night. And they ordered a cab together that night. 

However, the bartender got out at his address and drunkenly stumbled into lower income housing in Brooklyn while Roy begrudgingly returned to his Upper East Side home. 

He went back on Monday night after work and was greeted by the usual bartender, not the blond he spent the past few nights with. Night after night he came back in hopes of seeing that blond hair pulled back into that high ponytail Roy desperately wished to tangle his fingers in. But nonetheless it was not he, not until Friday night. He worked weekends only. 

They repeated their weekend again, but better. They went to bars, restaurants and even a late night poetry reading. As one poet concluded her ‘Ode to Dead Fish’ Roy finished off his whiskey and draped an arm around the bartender’s shoulders and impulsively kissed on his ear. No one’s skin ever tasted so good; never had he ever wanted to take someone so impulsively in his life. He’d have the bartender then and there if social construct allowed it. 

‘Want to go back to my apartment?’ he asked against the bartender’s ear. He could feel the man beside him shift in either a shiver or discomfort, Roy couldn’t tell in the alcohol induced haze until the bartender replied, ‘Sure. If you knew my name.’

That’s when it hit him. They spent all of these nights together and while the bartender knew Roy’s name Roy did not have his, even though Roy had asked and only got silence. ‘You never told me.’ Roy argued, ‘I’ve asked.’

The bartender laughed as he drunkenly stood up and tapped on his phone to order a cab, ‘Well. Figure it out and I’ll consider going home with you.’ He slipped his hands back into his coat pockets, bend down and kissed Roy deeply, playfully biting his bottom lip, ‘Have a good night, Roy.’

The poetry reading was last Sunday, and tonight was Friday but there was no sign of the golden hair behind the counter. Wetting his lips he finger combs the hair at the nape of his neck out of habit as Hughes pushes the drink away. Hughes, that was a complication he was not anticipating on having tonight. And given that he’s alone for the weekend it’s a given that he expects a night out. While if it were any other night Roy would have been more than willing to partake in barhopping with his friend, he wanted nothing more than to win his prize in maybe taking that bartender home.

“So, how’s things in the fancier offices been?” Hughes asks, “Been hearing rumors of Bradley stepping down, which means you’ll finally fully have the company.”

Roy frowns at this prospect; “The company should’ve been mine from the start. The bastard edited my father’s will and everyone knows it. What you’re hearing is rumors, the day Bradley retires is the day the world ends.”

“Well, also heard rumors that the Mrs. is a bit more than sick and that Selim has had to take a lot of responsibility on for that. That he wants to focus on his family.”

“Maybe, Bradley and I aren’t exactly on friendly terms, what goes on in his personal life isn’t a particular concern of mine.”

“Fair enough.” Hughes nods, “But what is a concern of mine is the service at this bar.” He knocks on the hardwood, “Hello?”

“Yeah, yeah.” A voice Roy knew too well snaps, accompanied by nearly obnoxious stomping. Around the corner rounds the man in question stripping off his near signature dark red coat. He hastily folds it and shoves it under the bar and pulls out the usual black button up with the club’s insignia embroidered on the breast pocket. He strips off his slightly oversized black thermal to reveal a black tank top coupled with very toned arms and shoves that with the coat. The bartender quickly buttons the shirt and then hurriedly tucks it into his pants before starting to tie on his apron, “Alright. If you liked what you saw just then, I work down at Temptations Gentlemen’s Club Monday through Wednesday…” a few chuckles come from the bar as the bartender waves a hand as he washes his hands at the small sink, “I’m kidding.” He nods to Hughes, “You’re clearly dying to be dehydrated through alcoholic means, what can I get started for you.”

“A Guinness.” 

“Anything else?” he locks eyes with Roy as he towels off his hands, the man being questioned still stalled in the fantasyland of the bartender working at a strip club.

“Ah…uh…scotch.”

“Of course.” He rolls his eyes as he places small napkins before them both and moves on to take more orders.

Hughes smirks, “Cute new bartender, although I’m curious as to if he’s even…”

“I’m twenty two.” The bartender cuts in as he pulls out glasses.

“You look like you’re still in high school.”

“What, you want to see my ID?”

Roy leans closer, “Sure.”

The bartender freezes mid scooping ice for Roy’s scotch, “What.”

“Your ID. I’d like to see it. Verify your age.”

“Are you fucking-”

“Not at all.” Roy extends a hand.

Reluctantly, the bartender pulls out his wallet and near rips out the ID before it’s slapped into Roy’s palm, “Fuck you.” He mutters as he starts up Hughes’ beverage.

With the ID in hand Roy focuses on the tiny lettering to read ‘Edward Elric’ beside a very bored photo of the bartender before him. Edward. An older name, not commonly seen with people his age but it fit him. Edward sets the drinks down and Roy extends the ID back, “Thank you, Edward.”

“It’s Ed.”

“Ed, huh.” He smiles from behind a sip of scotch.

Perhaps it was the light or maybe the cold from which Ed had come inside from, by Roy would swear in front of the nation that he saw a blush on Edward’s face when he said his name. Indulging in another drink of scotch he savors the pleasure of saying that name on his tongue. 

“So, you doing anything tonight?” Hughes pries, “I keeping hearing Stranger Things is quite the watch. It’s too scary for Elecia and Gracia doesn’t like stuff like that. We could revisit the college days, order a pizza, and get a six-pack. You know you’re more than welcome at my home for the night.”

“Thanks for the offer. I’m not sure if tonight is the night to do that. How long are they out of town?”

“At least one night more.”

“Tomorrow night then? We can meet up here, maybe even get lunch or something before. I’m pretty flexible during the weekend.”

“Yeah, tomorrow still works.” Hughes inches closer, “Why not tonight? Trying to strike it in good and break your good boy streak?”

Roy’s eyes watch as Edward bends over to get more straws from underneath one of the counters, “Something like that.” 

____________________________________________

It took what felt like years for Hughes to get drunk enough to where he willingly left the bar at Roy’s digression. The man never knew his limits. At the curbside the cab stalls as Roy peels his friend off him and guides him into the back seat. Roy informs the cabbie of the proper address and hands him a small wad of bills for the cab fare and for tip. “Please be sure he gets into his apartment. I’ll be stopping by later tonight to make sure of it.”

“I’m no damn babysitter.” The cabbie huffs from behind a cigar.

Roy adds a fifty-dollar bill to the already sizeable tab. The cabbie slides it into his breast pocket, “But for that, I could be. He got his keys on him?”

“Yeah. Here, I’ll get them for you.” Roy reaches into Hughes’ coat pocket to fish out his keys. Thumbing through them he shows the cabbie the right one, “This should be it. If not it’ll be the other brass one.” 

“Gotcha.” He drops the keys in a cup holder, “I’ll take care of him. Have a good night.”

Waving to the taxi he steps away from the curb. The cold wind seeps in through his thick wool coat. Damn these late November nights. He felt the urge to light a cigarette, something he hasn’t done in years, but it felt fitting. However, he hasn’t carried cigarettes or lighters on his person since college and he’d soon be indulging in something much better than nicotine soon.

“You’re a nice friend.” That toxic voice comments from behind, turning around he sees Ed tying a scarf underneath his jaw, “Be nicer if you escorted him yourself.”

“This isn’t the first time he’s gotten like this.” Roy steps closer, “Besides, I have plans tonight.”

“Do you.”

“If you’d be so gracious as to partake them with me.”

“You talk like an old man.” 

“Maybe I am an old man.”

“You got too young of girls after you to be an old man.”

“What do you consider old?”

“Like, my dad’s age.”

“And that is?”

Ed pauses. He presses his lips into a perfect line when he does that and his eyes glaze over as if his body’s been switched into autopilot, “Fifty? Fifty-five? He’s a lot older than my mom, or at least was. Who the fuck knows.”

“What do you mean by that?”

They start walking, Roy doesn’t know where and he doesn’t venture to guess that Edward knows either.

“Mom’s dead, been dead since I was around ten. Dad ran off before then. She talked about him though, mentioned they had a huge age gap.” Ed casts him a slight glare, “Are you old, Mr. Mustang?”

Mr. Mustang. The name Ed would call him when he’d give Roy his check, the name that would sometimes be slurred at the end of their nights together. “Old is subjective.”

“Then give me an objective number and I’ll make it subjective.”

“Thirty.”

“Not terrible.” He shrugs, “I’ve had women twice your age try to get in my pants by working here.”

“Do you go with them after shift?”

“Hell no.” he snorts, a rare smile igniting his expression and Roy’s nerves, “Saggy breasts? Gross. Plus, I don’t like…”

“Girls?”

“…most girls. I tend to like guys, I feel like they can handle me. But…” he throws up his hands, “Who cares. Anyways, where’s dinner at tonight?”

“There’s this Japanese place I’d like to-”

“I don’t do raw fish.”

“They also have non-sushi options.”

Ed stops mid walk and practically glowers at Roy, “Why bother? You won. Why not just try to woo me to your apartment and fuck me? That’s why you keep following me after shift right? I see you staring at me when I work. And we…you know last Sunday.”

“Kissed? You think just because I buy you food and kiss you means I want to fuck you?”

“Yeah? Isn’t that what most people do when they want to fuck?”

“Well.” He laughs, “I won’t lie and say I don’t not want to fuck you. But fuck is too harsh of a word, I’d like to have sex with you, but when it makes sense, when it’s right. Not because you think I want it or you think you owe it to me.”

“Then why do you keep buying me drinks and food and-”

He impulsively kissed those argumentative lips, gently caressing Ed’s chin to keep him still for a moment, “Because I enjoy your company and it’s no trouble.”

It wasn’t just the cold that made Ed’s face burn red as he loudly exhales before stomping ahead of Roy, “Fine. Be weird like that.”

A nearly inaudible laugh escapes Roy as he follows the other. They walk in silence into the sushi restaurant. They sit in near silence as Ed drinks sake shot after sake shot. His eyes get glassy as one brow is more raised than the other, a strange thing that Ed’s face did when he started to feel the alcohol. He also ordered the Kobe steak, most likely as a jab or test of financial dependency on Roy’s behalf. They ate dinner with some small talk passed across the table and Roy took the check as usual. 

The wind is harsher when they exit, but Roy doubts Ed notices it considering how much sake he drank and how his cheeks are in a near constant flush for the past half hour. Ed teeters on his heels as he stares up at the sky, “So. Where to now?” 

“Where do you want go?” 

“…the park.”

“It’s freezing, Ed.”

God, he loves being able to say that.

“Where do you want to go then?”

“Anywhere that you want to go that’s preferably indoors.”

A loud sigh comes from Ed as he rests his head on Roy’s shoulder. His eyes close for a moment as he wets his lips. The sight is overly intoxicating. This man was so beautiful with his gold hair, darker gold eyes and skin that always seem to be glowing. Those eyes flash open and lock on him, “…well. You won. We could go back to your place.”

“Do you want to go to my place?”

“Yes.”  
________________________________________________________________________

The cab ride was not long enough. Edward surprised Roy the second Roy’s address left his mouth by climbing into his lap. His freezing hands curled around Roy’s neck as he forced their lips together, pressing their bodies together with the unspoken urgency that had been deliciously building between them for the past two weeks. Ed is a bit of a sloppy kisser in his inebriated state but Roy doesn’t mind, he likes how uncaring and how deep each kiss is. He loves how Ed fits perfectly between his hands and on his lap. Finally, he could reach up and grasp that blond ponytail that had been taunting him since night one. He could reach up and rip that hair elastic out and feel the cascading of hair fall between his fingertips and toy with the strands streaming down his hand. Making a fist he grips the golden tendrils and gives a rough pull down to force Ed’s head back granting him full access to a scarf-protected neck. 

Eagerly, he nearly rips the scarf off to start marking up that perfect, impossibly warm skin. His tongue licks in odd patterns and teeth nip and play with sensitive areas. A soft moan rumbles at the back of Ed’s throat, which makes Roy’s growing erection nearly painful. Ed feels this and reaches between their crotches to rub a hand against the fabric of Roy’s trousers, which draws a loud groan from him.

“Okay, for fucks sake, get out.” The cabbie snaps, unlocking the doors, pulling them out of their self-created ecstasy. 

Ed laughs as he lazily slinks out of the cab to wait as Roy pulls out a hundred dollar bill and follows close behind. Once out of the car he breathes heavily as he looks at Ed, hair pooling around his shoulders, eyes alight. They manage to get into Roy’s apartment without touching one another. Roy mumbles something about getting Ed a drink before the man in question is forcing them together again. A throaty groan comes forth in the kiss as he roughly gathers Ed into his arms and carries him into the bedroom, a bit surprised at Edward’s weight and very thankful at his sobriety. 

Their lips barely leave one another in the short trip to the bedroom. Roy had left the door open so that obstacle was avoided. Once inside he throws Edward onto the bed and crawls atop him, one hand holds his face briefly then starts to free Ed of his clothing. Ed more than obliges in the undressing. He sits upright breathing heavily as he helps Roy take off his coat, shirt and undershirt, eventually leaving him shirtless. Roy takes a moment to savor this sight, drinking in Ed’s lightly toned torso. It was clear he had time to work out or was just biologically blessed. Ed notices and smirks before greedily disrobing Roy, his hands shaking as he strips him to be shirtless as well, his eyes flickering with a newfound appreciation for anatomy as he runs a hand down Roy’s impossibly defined torso.

“Damn, is all you do is work out?”

“I do what I can.” He murmurs, stealing a few kisses, “I was in the military for awhile, discharged a few years back.”

“For?”

Roy takes Ed’s hand and places it on his abdomen, on the left side is the puckered remains of a bullet hole, “Got shot.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

A few more kisses and Roy’s hand traces a huge burn on Edward’s right arm that trickled onto his torso. It is mostly healed and light colored scarring but the evidence still remains. “What happened here?”

“Got burned.”

“I’m-”

“Can we just shut up now?” he exhales, lifting to crush their lips together, dragging Roy back down onto the bed. 

His other hand goes to explore between Roy’s legs, unbuckling his belt to slide a hand beneath his trousers. A ragged inhale leaves him as Ed starts to run a few fingers up the shaft then crudely grasp his balls. He breathes heavily as he pins Edward to the bed, kissing him hard and deep, forcing his tongue into that defiant mouth, scraping his teeth against that firm bottom lip. “You’re testing my patience with you.” He growls.

“Then don’t be patient.” 

He stares at him for a long time, hurried breaths passing between them, “Are you sure? You’re drunk, Ed.”

“Not that drunk.” He goes in for another kiss, getting what he wants, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He kisses down Ed’s face, jaw, neck and starts to suckle at his nipple, taking the skin between his teeth, “Do you trust me?”

Ed nods as Roy moves lower on his abdomen. He shivers as his jeans are unbuttoned and tossed to the floor. Roy’s hand expertly rubs against the fabric separating Ed’s throbbing member from flesh on flesh release. 

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” He moans, the sound nearly a whimper, the sound nearly driving Roy mad, he craves to flip him over and pound him into the mattress, but holds himself steady. He has never actually been with a man to this extent and is fairly sure by the way Edward breathes and moves that he was a virgin to these matters as well. 

Roy joins their lips for deep kisses as Ed’s underwear joins his jeans on the floor. He leads a trail down Ed’s abdomen again, his hands following him this time as he slows his movements as he reaches the other man’s groin. Despite Ed being on the short side he was not lacking. He licks at the tip, gaining a loud moan of pleasure as Ed trembles under his fingertips as his tongue drags down the length of the member before him. He works nimbly and dutifully, taking his time mostly because he loves how it makes the blond writhe and squirm and whimper, but mostly because it had been since college that he did this. He reaches to pump his own member, the noise Ed was making was too much for him. It isn’t too long until Edward’s entire length is in his mouth and he starts to bob his head, focusing on the sounds of pleasure and not his threatening gag reflex as he moves faster and faster. 

“Mustang!” he pants, his fingers tightly knit into Roy’s hair, “I-I’m going-”

Roy couldn’t answer if he wanted to, and if he could he’d simply tell Ed to go ahead. And he did. After a few breaths to regain himself he grabs the back of Ed’s head, tearing him up from the mattress and crushes their lips together hungrily and tenderly. His tongue traces the shape of Edward’s bottom lip then breaks off the kiss. 

Staring into Roy’s eyes Ed moves lower, his hand grips Roy’s member, still erect and nearly in pain from lack of release. He guides it to his entrance and starts to grind his hips against it. 

“Hey, you don’t-”

“I want to.”

So he let him. He let Ed flip him into the mattress and suck on his own erection. He watches as a messy golden curtain hides most of Ed’s face as he works to pleasure him and drinks in as much of the sight as he can of the same man slowly lowering himself onto the member he was pleasuring. The other was incredibly tight, ridiculously so, it was maddening, it was a pleasure he had not felt before and it was what made him immediately climax. 

“That was fast.” Ed slurs as he collapses beside Roy, not putting up any fight as Roy pulls him into his chest. Ed fit perfectly there too.

“Shut up.” Roy snaps as he fights to get the both of them under the bed sheets, kissing Ed lazily, “It’s Roy, by the way.”

“What?”

“My first name. Call me Roy.”

“Okay, Roy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorta fluff, sorta sexy, sorta have no idea what happened here but I kind of like it!
> 
> The next chapter is one I'm really excited about!
> 
> Also forgot to mention but this is based off some fan art that my lovely friend Gettibucket made of Roy as a playboy in bed with a phone and saying how in love he is. Spoilers, that scene comes up next chapter :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this trash, hope you enjoyed!

One thing Roy braced himself for as he guides that swaying mess of blond hair into his townhome was a cold bed the next morning. From what he had learnt of this bartender, of this Edward Elric, was that conventional methods of affection or seduction typically had little or less than desired effect on him. Most of this assumption was based on the fact that Ed had snuck out of a restaurant bathroom mid-dinner and expected another meal the next night. 

Last night continues to replay itself behind his eyelids as he lay in bed, trying to force himself to leave the bed and start his day. Surely he’d already have a plethora of texts from Hughes, the usual reminder emails and voicemails from Riza, briefing emails from Bradley and bulleted lists from Sheska. Yes, it is the weekend but in running a business days off do not truly exist. 

However, he’ll lay like this as long as he can muster until he realizes that the bed is as cold as it was any other morning and that the golden mess he someone coaxed into not only his arms but into his home had already departed. His expression was more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol, the sounds trickling out of his mouth were even more so, everything about this Edward Elric drove him mad and he couldn’t even pinpoint as to why. All he knew was that he found himself lusting for him quite strongly and hated that. He hates that there will be an end to this desire and soon that gold will lose its luster as Edward realizes how disgusting and despicable he is. He would see past the nice suits, the lavish apartment living, and the millions then see the man that built a wonderful mask to hide his true self behind. 

Wanting to have some sort of indication on the hypothesis on if Edward was gone, he stretches an arm to meet nothing. Prying his eyes open he sees exactly what he was expecting, a barren bed. His heart suddenly doubles in weight as he sits up to rub the sleep from his face. That is typical. Perhaps on the second time Edward would stay just as he did with he restaurant. Leaving the bed he starts towards the bathroom but stops when he steps on the clothes thrown on the floor from last night. His suit was in pieces on the hardwood along with well-worn black jeans and other articles of clothing that did not belong to him. He did carefully note that his button up was missing. 

He quickly slips on boxers, lounge pants and a white undershirt before exiting the bedroom to slowly make his way down the hallway that leads to the living room as if this wasn’t his home. His eyes linger on doors that were closed the night before but are now left wide open. A banging of kitchenware on countertop draws him like a moth to flame out of the hallway and to his expansive kitchen where Edward stands in Roy’s button up and Ed’s boxers with a frying pan between his hands as if he was wielding a weapon. The ability to breathe suddenly is impossible as Roy drinks in the sight of Edward’s golden hair in a post-sex mess spilling over his shoulders and onto Roy’s button up which was ridiculously big on Ed’s shoulders. Women had pulled a similar trick on him before but never looked this desirable.

In this light Roy can make out just how golden Edward’s eyes are as he crosses his arms, “What’s going on here?”

“Saw a fruit fly.”

“And you-”

“Tried to kill it with a frying pan? Yes. Fight me.” Ed puts the pan on the stovetop, clicking it on as if he was the one who bought it, “Do you like eggs and onions and peppers? I mean I guess you do since they’re in your fridge?”

Nearly speechless and incredibly bemused by the sight before him, he loiters at Edward’s side staring at the egg, onion and peppers mixture in a fine china-serving bowl that Roy got in Turkey. His stare then moves to the handful to spices that Ed had dug out of the pantry. “I see you’ve done a lot of exploring this morning.”

Ed shrugs, “I always wake up early because of classes. Plus you snore really freaking loud.”

“My apologies. I don’t usually have anyone sleeping with me.”

“Sure you don’t.” Ed starts pouring the mixture in and stirs it around as it cooks, “I’ve seen how many women you leave the bar with. I’m not stupid. No need to make me feel special, you accomplished that last night.” He smirks up at him, “Do you always come thirty seconds in?”

“…I was already.” Roy clears his throat; he had been silently praying that Ed would forget about that. It was bad enough he nearly immediately came but that Edward had the gall to blatantly bring it up. “If it disappointed you, I’ll be more than happy to redeem myself.”

Ed turns off the stovetop and starts to scrape the eggs onto the two pieces of Roy’s fancier dishware, he wonders if Ed is aware that he picked out some of the most expensive dishes in the apartment, “Maybe after breakfast. I’d like to see the Roy Mustang that all of the wannabe strippers at the bar rave about.” He takes a seat at the dining room table, arranging himself as if his name was on the lease instead of Roy’s, “Do you have any ketchup? I didn’t see any in the fridge.”

A huge portion of his natural instinct begging Roy to pinch himself, maybe even punch himself in the face for he had to be dreaming to have this young man so flippantly take over his home. First he makes eggs, insults his stamina in bed then asks for ketchup all the while using some of the most expensive kitchenware in the home. If this were any of the girls he’d fuck in the hotel rooms he’d rent for his one night stands or in the bathrooms of the bar he’d be politely escorting her out the door before she could pleasantly settle into the dining room table, much less ask for condiments. He knew he should tell Edward exactly where he could shove that ketchup but instead Roy’s feet move him to the pantry to retrieve the condiment in question. Setting it in front of Ed who happily pops open the top and starts to decorate his breakfast. 

“Do you do this often?” Roy inquires as he takes the seat before the other plate of eggs, “Insult the people you sleep with the morning after over breakfast?”

“I don’t mean to. I just don’t really have much of a filter unless I’m on the job.” He shrugs, “Even then it’s not that great.”

Roy finds Ed’s bluntness refreshing, almost admirable as he pokes around at his eggs before taking a bite, surprised at how well it tastes, “Why the breakfast though?”

“You’re always buying me food. I thought I’d even out the playing field.”

“Eggs aren’t exactly Kobe steak.”

Ed’s plate is already clean. He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms as he eyes Roy, “Do you want steak?”

“No, I’m just-“

“You live in a nice ass apartment in the East Side. Don’t pretend that money means anything to you.” He taps on the plate, “You want me to wash this or do you have a maid?”

“I’ll wash since you cooked.”

“Oh look, chivalry isn’t dead.”

“You’ll be dead with a mouth like that.”

Edward grins at him from across the table as he stands, taking his plate with him, “Is that a threat or a promise, Mr. Mustang?”

Something in the way Edward said his name sends chills down his spine and snaps the restraint he had been displaying so far. Swallowing down the mouthful of eggs he sets his fork down to follow Ed back into the kitchen. Roy isn’t sure what part of his brain though that gripping Ed’s hips between his hands, pulling him against his chest and breathing, “What are you playing at, Edward?”, in his ear. But whatever part of him thought that he was thankful for as he finds himself taking too much delight in how Ed shivers. He keeps his lips against that ear, “Are you trying to piss me off or force me to drag you back into the bedroom?”

“It’s Ed.” Those golden eyes slice into him as he moves to stare Roy down, “And who says I’d even want to go back to your bedroom with you?” 

Roy roughly grips the button up billowing around Edward’s frame, forcing the material upwards, making sure to drag his fingertips on the skin beneath the fabric, “You’re wearing my clothes, Edward. You’re in my home, making breakfast and charming me with that filthy mouth of yours.” He places a gentle kiss to Ed’s earlobe as he starts unbuttoning the shirt, “It’s not so much as in what you’re saying as in what you’re doing.”

The shirt falls to the floor and Roy’s hand continues to explore Ed’s chest, enjoying each moment not daring to rush this. He takes this time to memorize every faint indentation and every slightly protruding muscle on his body. His fingers feel the softer, newer skin of the burns. He yearns to know how they got there, but knows that’s sacred information he would have to earn. The kisses wander to Ed’s neck, which careens to give more access, golden hair spilling into Roy’s face. A hand leaves Ed’s hip to grip a fistful of it, forcing his head back that in turn also gains a sudden gasp from Edward’s lips. The hand on his hip lowers to between his legs as he rubs the fabric before his member, which to Roy’s surprise was already considerably erect. 

“I wonder if that’ll last longer than thirty seconds?” he murmurs into Ed’s ear, guiding him into the countertop, the sight of Ed’s hands curling around the marble, feeling his back arch into his hold and feel his head rest on his collarbone as he emits another breathy moan nearly does Roy in. 

“Shut. Up.” Edward murmurs as he turns his head, a hand leaves the marble to warp around the nape of Roy’s neck and force their lips together in deep, hungry kisses.

Kissing Edward is like jumping off a high dive. You work your way up to the very top; you look down at this tiny rectangle and the breath in your lungs leaves. You look around and wonder if it’s too late to go back down the ladder but an instinct takes over and you jump. As your body plummets towards the rectangle you’re reminded that not all of the air left your lungs as it gets caught. For a split second before your feet meets the surface you get rid of that half breath and gulp what you can before the water engulfs you in a sweet, cool envelopment that caresses every centimeter. And while you’re in that water drifting lower towards the bottom of the pool you are in awe at how much like velvet water can feel like. And you’re shocked to find that the water is actually warm, sweet and golden as it should be. There is nothing else on your mind and your body goes into auto drive because there is just you and this pool. 

That’s all there is to it. That’s what it is like to kiss Edward Elric.

The hand on Ed’s hip maneuvers the blond so that he was no longer half bent over the counter but facing Roy. He wants to hold that strong jaw, trace that perfect bottom lip with his thumb and be able to just barely part his eyes to catch glimpses on the expression Edward makes while he kisses him. Electricity runs through him as he feels Ed’s hands rake up his chest then back down to grip the hem of his shirt and near desperately tear it off. Each kiss deepens immensely, as if he tries to see if there’s any possible way to get closer to Roy as he winds his arms around Roy’s shoulders. Ed arches his hips against Roy’s, his tongue starting to dominate the kisses as the two silently start fighting it out. 

Roy begins to win the battle as his hand works its way up and down the other’s member. A moan spills from Ed as he digs his nails in. As Roy works off Edward’s boxers a sharp knock at the door causes both of them to freeze, eyes wide as they exchange near horrified expressions. 

The knock sounds again. Only a handful of people have access to directly knock on the door and bypass the doorman or the intercom system. Exhaling Roy redirects his attention back to Ed, carefully placing a finger against his lips to pantomime being quiet. Ed smirks as his eyes flash dangerously as he parts his lips, his tongue darting out to suckle on the single digit. 

“God damn you.” Roy hisses as Ed laughs which is suddenly silences by Roy’s palm pressing tight against Ed’s lips. 

They both stare towards the door again. Another knock sounds and a voice that Roy would rather never hear in the morning mid-almost-morning-sex shouts in the most polite way possible, “Roy Mustang, I know you’re in there. I have a lunch meeting to get to and seeing as you stood up our breakfast meeting, I’d like to go over what I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Fuck.” Roy mutters as he increases the pressure on Ed’s mouth, “That’s the head of my company.” He whispers to Edward, “I need to handle a few things. Please, for the love of god, just hide in the bedroom, I’ll be there soon.”

Guiding Roy’s hand from his mouth Ed sighs, “Fine.” 

He waits until he hears the door click shut until he goes to answer the door to reveal the un-amused expression of King Bradley. Stepping to the side he gestures for Bradley to enter, “Sorry, I had to put on pants.” 

“Hmm.”

“I apologize about missing our meeting. I thought it was tomorrow morning.” Roy continues as Bradley meanders into the kitchen, stalling right where Roy had Ed bent over moments ago. 

He hates letting this man in his home, this man who royally fucked him over with his own family’s business. The business his father started and the business that was supposed to be his when his father died in that car crash. He hates how Bradley surveys his luxury apartment as if it were a child’s quaint playhouse instead of coveted retail space. 

“Of course you did, Roy, it’s alright. You have a busy schedule, I should’ve reminded you, it’s my fault, as always.”

“That’s not-”

“But isn’t it?” he smiles pleasantly, speaking in that impeccable even tone, “I’ve always had to keep an eye out for you Roy, but those days are numbered. Surely you’ve caught wind of the cubical gossip in your office during nap time that I’m intending to retire.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it. What’s brought on this decision?”

“My wife.” Bradley frowns, placing one hand atop the other, his morose gaze on his wedding band, “She has cancer, and we are getting into the rougher stages of treatment. It’s curable, or so they say. Selim has had to take on more that I’d want him to, but I can’t be there when I need to be with the responsibilities of this job. I love this business, I love your family, and I even see you as I would a son of sorts, but I have to put my family first.”

A rude laugh escapes Roy as he leans against the counter, “A son of sorts? Do not get me wrong, I am deeply sorry for Mrs. Bradley’s illness and want nothing but good health for her, but don’t play this hand. You don’t see me as anything more than a dead weight that’ll just break this pretty business you’ve modeled into a corporate machine.”

“A corporate machine? Roy, I’ve doubled the empire your father started. I’ve recreated his legacy, I’ve been providing your luxury lifestyle, I’ve been working tediously while you indulge in women while I seal business deals. Don’t make me into the enemy here. I’ve been doing what your father want-”

“You white-outed his will.” Roy snaps, his voice tense and cold, “You manipulated his death to work for you.”

“I…” his knuckles are nearly white as he takes them off the countertop, “Listen, and listen well. Your father wanted me to have the company. Your father had worse plans for his business. Your father didn’t want you to own the business; he didn’t think you had it in you. I don’t blame him considering your bachelor’s lifestyle. But I saw you for more than a womanizing bastard. I would see glances into your potential. I was the one who pushed your military service, I was the one who knew that would snap you into shape and help you beat out your anger about your father’s anger and it was I who ‘white-outed’ his will to make sure you would be secured.” He inches closer and closer as he speaks, his hand lashes out to jab Roy harshly in the chest, “And it is I who has forced you to groom yourself into a suitable candidate to take your own company. It is I who will hand this enormous burden to you because you’re finally ready enough to handle it, Roy.” He lowers his hand and contently clasps them in a polite gesture, “You are ready, Roy. There will be a corporation board meeting to discuss your transitional period into my position. For your sake, I would look more closely at the itineraries that Ms. Hawkeye sends you.” 

Roy wets his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, pressure constricting his chest as he reflects back to his father, trying to remember any indication on if he didn’t want Roy to head the company. He couldn’t find one example, but he couldn’t scrap up enough proof to win a case otherwise. His father never promised him anything except stability; he always assumed stability meant Roy heading the business. Bradley places a stern hold on Roy’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, “I apologize for being so stern, but someone had to. Lord knows your father wouldn’t do it. Sorry for the outburst. It was unprofessional.”

They stand in a brief silence, letting the speech wash over each other. Both party not sure if the other overstepped his bounds or if this was the start of another war or the end of the silent one they’ve been fighting for years.

“I’m in my sleepwear in my kitchen; this is hardly a professional setting. Don’t worry about it.” He flashes Bradley a tight smile, “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll be at the meeting, don’t worry. And give Mrs. Bradley my best.”

Bradley starts towards the door, tossing Roy a rare smile, “Tell her yourself, Dana hates the hospital, says its boring. I’m sure you casing nurses’ skirts will entertain her well enough. Sixth floor, inpatient wing.”

“Noted.” Roy nods, “See you Monday.”

“Monday.” Bradley echoes as the front door clunks closed. 

The apartment is dead quiet for a handful of seconds until the gentle creaking and almost noiseless rhythm of Edward leaving the bedroom signals off. Taking the dirty dishes, Roy starts to clean them, trying not to stare too much at the messy bun at the nape of Ed’s neck. He leans on the counter, gold eyes flickering in concern as he speaks in a low tone, “…should I go?”

Roy shakes his head as he puts the pan on the stove to dry, “Not unless you want to.”

“That sounded pretty serious. If you have things to do I get it, just tell me when and I’ll go.”

“I don’t have any pressing matters to attend to today. It was just work stuff. I appreciate the concern you have regarding the situation.” He finishes cleaning the plates and sets them on the counter to air dry, “And if that’s your way of trying to leave, no need, you can always ask.”

Ed scoffs, “If I wanted to go, I’d go. But I can’t stay for too much longer, my brother’s coming back into town this evening from studying abroad, I’ve got a few things to do between then and picking him up.”

“You have a brother? What’s his name?”

“It’s Al.”

“Just Al?”

“Alphonse, technically.”

“How old is he?” 

Fire crackles in Ed’s eyes as he crosses his arms, a frown easily pulling down his lips, “Listen. I appreciate you wanting to ‘get to know me’ or whatever, but let’s be honest with each other here. This isn’t going to last long. You’re some big shot Hugh Heffner type off Wall Street; I’m a grad student. Those are two things that just don’t mix for very long.” He moves closer to Roy, looking up at him bluntly, “Even though it was short, sex was great last night. Let’s keep this casual. Keep this where we have it. That way when it falls apart, it doesn’t mean anything.”

‘It doesn’t mean anything…’ Something about that statement stung, and Roy didn’t like that it did. If he had his way he’d be taking Edward out for brunch, watching him at an outdoor table talk about whatever flitted through is mind, wondering how it was possible that he ate so much. Maybe after he’d drop him off to get his brother, and they’d run back into each other at the bar then hopefully find each other back in this apartment naked and breathless in the bedroom. However, Roy is not gay, nor has he even shown much of an inclination towards men since a few experiments in high school and college. But with this person standing before him, he was questioning on if there’s more than his father’s will that he doesn’t know about. 

Forcing a smile he nods, “Fair enough. I’d also like you to know that if you ever want to stop, just tell me.”

“Would I still get free dinners?”

“Only if you sit through the whole thing.”

A smile, “I like the way you think, Mr. Mustang.”

That tightness grips Roy’s throat and chest at Ed’s smile and his lips formulating that damn name, his name. “Good to know. Would you also like to shower and get lunch?” his heart was hammering in his chest, he wants as much time with this man as possible. He’s selfish, he knows that, but he doesn’t care. “That is, if you don’t have to get your brother anytime soon.”

Ed checks the microwave clock, “…you have me until five. Make use of your time.”

\---

Roy made damn good use of his time.

The second the near challenge left Edward’s lips Roy had him gathered in his arms and mouth ravenously devouring kiss after kiss. His fingers rudely tore off the clothes on Ed’s body, not caring where they went, as he tore out the hair tie to immediately tangle his hand in those blond locks. He hated that his hand had to leave the silken texture of Ed’s hair as he used both hands to grip the blond’s ass in order to lift him up and carry him to the bathroom. From there it was even more urgent undressing, water that was too hot, too cold, then warm enough to tolerate as they kept shoving each other up against the steaming white tile. The water caused Edward’s hair to plaster to his neck, back and shoulders. It would lead small rivers of deep gold down his face, which Roy gladly pushed aside during their few second kissing breaks only to go back to exploring the inside of Ed’s mouth with his tongue. 

He was surprised at the tenacity of the other, how one person could have so much energy for such a long amount of time. To be fair, he had a wide range of sexual partners in his day, but never had he met his match in stamina. Last night he had thoughts that it was Edward’s first time with a man, but in how he led ravenous kisses down his chest to do nearly unspeakable, sinful things with his mouth, it was impossibly clear that Roy was not his first. Part of him envied that someone else had those hands on their body, those lips teasingly grazing skin and that set of eyes bearing up at them, but another part was immensely thankful to whoever or however he learnt how to behave like that. 

By the end of the shower the steam had filled up the bedroom and Roy was too tired to properly wash his hair. Together they trudged out only to fall onto the bed. Roy was a bit surprised at how Ed assumed that he could use him for a pillow but didn’t mind in the least. 

It’s hard to tell how long they lay there or when the room became cool enough to warrant bed sheets. It’s even harder to remember when the warmth left Roy’s chest to go collect his clothes off the floor and start getting ready to leave. Still nude he watches him move. Ed was on the shorter side, but Roy never noticed when they were together or even side-by-side, he gave off such a commanding and large presence. He likes the gentle curves of his body, how there is some muscle definition that proves that Ed finds his way to a gym every now and again. Ed’s jeans are a bit too big on him, they bag around his hips more than they should and should probably be retired to the trashcan. But they have character and they fit him. Roy wonders what proper suit trousers would look like on Ed’s hips, and has to shift to avoid proof of his imaginary approval. 

Ed sits on the edge of the bed in his ratty jeans and black undershirt as he unties his combat boots. His hair trails down his back. Roy sits upright and tucks some of it behind Ed’s ear to lazily kiss and breathe deeply against it. He can practically feel him swallow as he turns to nudge Roy off, “What are you doing?” he mutters.

“I like you with your hair down.” He licks on the shell of Ed’s ear as he wraps his arms around him, “…it’s a shame we missed lunch.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not my fault you had to redeem yourself from last night.” He leans back into Roy’s arms, “Better this time though.”

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, “Do you need a ride to get your brother?”

“No,” he stands up, pulling his phone out tapping around before returning it to his pocket, “, but thanks for the offer I guess.” He picks up his work button up then shrugs on the dark red coat and works his scarf around his neck, “It’s been fun, Roy.”

“Are you working tonight?”

“Does it matter? You’re there every night.”

“Not every night.”

“Right, just every night I work, you pervert.”

He laughs as he too starts to dress, “Has anyone ever slapped you by something you’ve said?”

“Not yet. Why, do you want to?”

“Not yet.”

“Yet.” Ed grins as he hides his hands in his pockets, “Well. I should probably go down and wait on the cab.”

Roy strides over to his closet, retracting a sweater to pull over his button up from the night before, “Here, let me walk you down.”

“No. We said casual, remember?”

“It’s just being courteous.”

“It’s fine.” He haphazardly gathers his hair at the nape of his neck in another messy bun, “Bye, Roy.”

He wants to open his mouth and command him to leave. He wracks his mind for something, anything to call out to make the small stray strands of blond stop swaying against the dark red of that coat. But nothing comes. Yet, his feet move faster than he meant to. They move fast enough to make enough noise to cause Ed to glance over his shoulder at him. He reaches out to wrap an arm around his waist and presses his lips to Ed’s. And for a split second, Ed lets that wall drop long enough to lean into the kiss, hold the side of Roy’s face then slip out of his grasp just as easily as he was caught up in it. And it's that split second that Roy savors as he hears the front door clack shut.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter (and this entire fucking fic that's probably going to be longer than I wanted it to, god damn it) is based off this art/concept that my friend Getti did! Click on the link, see the glory, click on her other stuff, drown in beautiful, beautiful Royed stuff <3 
> 
> http://gettibucket.tumblr.com/post/143635853641/im-in-love-maes-youre-drunk-that-too

The wrath was something he wasn’t expecting. It had been awhile since he's seen him like this, and a strange part of him likes watching Hughes become flustered then take it down a few notches only to shoot to a higher agitation than he started. Roy rests his face on his hand to observe the sight before him. Perhaps it was in college he last say Hughes this agitated with him. 

“I can’t believe you let a cabbie into my home!”

“He was paid. He seemed like a decent person.”

“He stole the cash out of my wallet!”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Damn right you will! And you owe me a weekend, the surgery was re-scheduled for later, they think physical therapy might fix the issues so they’re coming home today.” Hughes frowns over his martini, poking at his Mahi Mahi unenthusiastically, “Don’t get me wrong, I love them, I miss Elicia’s little feet on the floor. But…” he pushes up his glasses as he tries to find the right words.

“You miss the bachelor life sometimes.”

“Sometimes, yeah.” A mouthful of martini then an empty glass hits the tabletop, “Plus you’ve been swamped, so have I. We need to make bar nights a thing again.”

“I see nothing wrong with that.”

“Speaking of something wrong. What’s with you and that bartender? Maybe I was a bit too tipsy or it was the lighting…but you looked very flirty with him.” He starts on the food again, “Something you need to talk about?”

So he noticed. Roy is a bit surprised by this but shows nothing as he lifts his wine to his lips, savoring the flavor. The sun is setting and he wonders if Edward made it to the station safely. He wonders what his brother looks like. He also replays some very valid points Edward hit on their time together last night. 

‘…let’s be honest with each other here. This isn’t going to last long. You’re some big shot Hugh Heffner type off Wall Street; I’m a grad student. Those are two things that just don’t mix for very long.’ That’s what Ed said earlier. At first Roy was simply upset that the one person he felt inclined to take home was underhandedly rejecting him. But now the reality of his strange late night courting of a twenty-two year old bartender weighs down on him in the form of his best friend bestowing a near judgmental look.

“Hey, if you were, that’s your business, Roy. I’ve never want to touch you and your intimate life, not unless you ask me to. But he’s a kid. And yeah, we all have our vices, but you’re about to inherit a lot of responsibilities and have to watch who knows about your vices.” He clears his throat, “I’m not trying to lecture you here, but just be careful.”

“There’s nothing to be careful about here, Hughes.” He cuts into his steak, “Plus I know of men that like brighter, younger things than that bartender and they’re spotless as far as anyone’s concerned.”

“What is he to you?”

“…I’m not sure. But whatever it is, he wants it casual.”

“Is he really twenty-two?”

Roy cuts him an expression bordering a glare.

“There are laws, Roy.”

“He’s not…don’t be disgusting, Hughes.”

“I’m just making sure. We don’t want another incident like two years ago….”

“Her fake was a very good fake and her breasts were huge. Women can do sorcery with makeup these days to make them look like they’re ten years older, that was not my fault.”

“But it was almost a problem. I’d hate for you to have that repeat with him.”

“To my knowledge he doesn’t wear pounds of makeup.”

Hughes laughs. He shakes his head as he wipes his mouth with a napkin, “Fair enough. I’m just watching out for you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Someone’s got to. Wall Street is a mess!”

Roy smirks from behind his glass, “Indeed.”

\---

Seeing her at the bar was something he had not been expecting, which was only adding to the list of ‘Things Roy Mustang Was Not Anticipating to Deal With Today.’ He didn’t even have to see her face all he had to see was that blond hair expertly flipped up at the nape of her neck and the gentle curve of her back. She wore business attire even out of the office, which some people found off putting and ‘stuck up’ but he found it refreshing and routine. She’s one of the few rocks he’ll ever hope to have and she’s one of the few people he would literally take a bullet for.

He claims the seat next to hers, playfully draping an arm along the back of her seat, “Hey, sexy, come here often?”

Dark brown eyes nearly cut him in two then switch off their killer mode once she recognized him. A smile fights her lips as she sips her vodka, “Sir, you know better than to speak to me with that tone.”

“And you know better than to wear pencil skirts that tight around me.”

Her stare favors murder again, “Your jokes are bordering offensive.”

“Sorry.” He looks around, not seeing his favored golden ponytail swinging about, “Where’s the bartender?”

“She left a few minutes ago, out of straws.”

She. Well, maybe Riza got it confused, Edward’s hair is rather long, and he could possibly be mistaken for a woman off first glance. He doesn’t think on it, “What brings you here? Didn’t think these were your things anymore.”

“They’re not. I came to get you, I figured you’d be true to your habits.”

“Get me for what, exactly?”

“The Yao Emerging Talents Gala.” She finishes her drink in one fluid inhale, “Surely you didn’t forget.”

“Of course. I just thought I’d stop by for a drink.”

Her eyes flicker as she stands up, “You can have plenty of drinks at the gala after we get one of your nicer suits on you. This is a great opportunity to bring new blood into the company. It’ll also be good coverage if you stand by Bradley for five minutes like you enjoy each other’s existences.” She slips on her overcoat, “I hear you’ve made up, sir?”

“Something like that.” He joins her with a heavy heart, wanting to be anywhere but that gala. He had become attached to these improvised nights at the bar with Edward. 

 

\---

True to her style, she drug him into his home, marched him to his closet and hand picked the dark navy suit and black tie. The is his near signature attire at all semi-formal functions. She breezed through his bathroom, finding the exact mousse to lather on her hands and rake through his hair. Her hand guides him into the car, the driver already knowing exactly where to go. 

He hates these functions mostly because they are just a farce full of forced pleasant smiles to competitors and partners. Roy almost always half heartedly strolling alongside Bradley to discuss petty politics, the trivialities of the weather patterns or a breathy comment about how well endowed a passing woman is, just between men of course. That would continue on for at least an hour until Bradley’s age would show and he’s prefer to keep to himself and idle chatter with more elderly gentlemen while Roy would find himself pressed against some broker’s daughter in the bathrooms. 

The car stops in front of the gala destination, some guests still filtering in but it is clear that the even is in full swing. Riza exits the car and approaches the building at Roy’s side. He glances down at her; she too had changed at his apartment. They kept changes of each other’s clothes at one another’s place due to having been in strange circumstances more than one time in the duration of knowing one another. She normally wore dark purple to these events, but tonight she is in white. Riza always glows in lighter colors and he loves that. If he had not as much respect for her as he does, perhaps they would’ve been more than a few heated flings in Europe during their college years. 

“White’s a good color on you.”

“As is navy blue on you.”

He laughs under his breath, “Is it a personal choice that I’m always in this suit at these events?”

“Perhaps.” She cuts her stare up to him as she hands her overcoat to the coat check, “Bradley is already here, he’s in the cigar room, I know you don’t like them, so it wouldn’t hurt if you actually talked to some of the potential new hires. We have some rising celebrities of modern science in here.”

“Do we.” Their steps match as they enter the main room of the gala, fresh college graduates litter the marble floor, eyes wide as they fight to try to blend into their new habitat. 

Out of all the people in the crowd for him to happen to stare at, his gaze falls on a long blond ponytail in a small group not too far from the bar. He forces himself to pretend to listen to Riza list off possible people for him to talk with to hire into the company as he observes those broad shoulders tapering into a sturdy torso and waist. That height, the pale yet somehow sun kissed skin…

Surely, of all places this would not be a place that Edward would be at on his night off. That’s the mantra Roy tries to repeat in his head as his feet move on their own towards the silken blond ponytail trailing down a crisp black suit. He watches as the young man laughs, shifting to reveal a flute of champagne in his hand, The man’s free hand clasps the taller blond beside him as he rubs on his shoulder for a brief moment, in that same moment jealousy flares in Roy’s chest. A pretty blond woman with her light hair pulled into a sharp ponytail atop her head links arms with who Roy tries to lie to himself isn’t Ed and leans against him affectionately. Another flash of jealously. Perhaps that request for keeping things ‘casual’ was to save Edward’s personal agenda. 

The taller blond says something and nods to the blond woman who dramatically leans further on Not Ed before slipping her arm on the taller blond’s arm, pecking his cheek. An inside joke? He prays it to be so. Not Ed moves just so to where his profile is revealed, showing off that strong nose and jaw that had been pressed into Roy’s mattress only hours ago. His attention locks on something else and his features light up as he waves a hand, taking a few steps forward to half embrace another gentleman that Roy knows as Ling Yao, one of many children of the head of Yao Enterprises. 

He holds back to observe, swiping another flute of champagne. It is clear Edward and Ling are close, which raises his suspicions to dangerous levels. Ling joins the small group’s conversation, his fiancé, Lan Fan, appears out of what seems to be nowhere at his side. She too smiles at Edward making it very clear that they know each other. 

The flute is empty and he’s dying for answers. His feet start moving on their own until his eyes lock on Ling’s, whose lips spread into his trademark easygoing smile. Ling could not be any more opposite than his father. Roy cannot help but wonder if people once looked upon him like he looks on Ling and thought the same thing. 

“Mr. Yao, good evening.” He extends a hand, “A wonderful event you’ve put together here for a great occasion. Uniting young minds together towards a better future, genius.”

“Mr. Yao is my father,” They clasp hands; firmly shaking to confirm that there is a polite mutual respect, “, it’s Ling.”

Edward stands near stiffly, his thumb running up and down the neck of the glass with a force that tempts it to break. The taller blond beside him lights up as he flashes Roy his palm, “Friend of yours, Ling?”

“An acquaintance of sorts. He’s my father’s partner.” Ling moves to casually allow Roy into their circle, Roy can’t help but notice that Edward’s jaw tenses as he wets his lips impatiently, “How’s the transition going? I can’t imagine taking over a name as large as yours is easy.”

“Well, Bradley has a very methodical plan put in place. He’s done well to not suddenly drop an incorrigible mess in my lap. His retirement…it’s sad to see him go but there are more important things in life than work.”

“Well said, Mr. Mustang!”

“Please, Roy.”

“Roy.” He nods as a hand ventures to a passing hors d oeuvres platter, “See any promising candidates tonight?”

“Many, yourself?”

Ling beams happily as he abruptly throws his arms around Edward and the taller blond’s shoulders, pulling the trio together as if posing for a photograph, “Got all the candidates I need right here! Let me introduce you to the best and brightest minds that biochemical engineering is ever going to see! Edward and Alphonse Elric, dynamic duo in the lab, on the cusp of revolutionizing the medical world as you know it.”

Roy and Ed lock eyes. Ed expels a slow and long sigh as Roy drinks in the delicious sight of Ed in a perfectly fitting suit, “Yes, Edward and I have met. How are you this evening?”

“Fine.” Ed snaps.

Ling’s brows rise as he peers at Ed, “Getting friendly with our business partners are we?”, and his attention suddenly shifts over to Roy, “So tell me. How is it you know my friend here?” 

“He bartends at a bar I often times stop on my way home after a long day.”

“Ah.” 

“We’ve had conversation and dinner here and there.”

“Dinner?” the taller blond, Alphonse, smirks as he elbows Ed, “You never told me about dinner with millionaires.” 

“I didn’t know who he was.” Ed mutters as he finishes off his drink, “It’s not a big deal anyways.” If looks could kill, Roy would have a knife pressed to his throat right about now, “Right, Mr. Mustang?”

Roy nods, “Right.”

Alphonse seems too pleased by the situation, his glittering amber stare locks on Roy as he extends a hand, “I’m Alphonse Elric, Edward’s brother. He’s said he’s been off on adventures after shift while I’ve been studying in London, I had no idea it was with the heir to Central Brokerage.”

“He had no idea it was with the heir to Central Brokerage.” Ed snaps, gaining a look that screamed 'behave' from the blond woman at Alphonse’s side, “I’m not going to stand here while you talk about me like I’m not here. I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”

True to his word, his ponytail almost whips Alphonse’s shoulder as he turns on his heel to stalk off towards his announced destination. The woman at Alphonse’s side shakes her head as she adjusts a pearl bracelet on her wrist, “He’s always so temperamental.”

“He’s embarrassed, Winry.” Alphonse’s smile suddenly darkens but incredibly enough remains bright to the untrained eye. Roy’s seen this expression in one too many meetings, mostly worn by Bradley. “It’s understandable considering the kind of night’s he’s told me about, and considering the reputation preceding the company’s he kept.”

Roy swipes another flute from a passing tray of champagne, “I assure you he’s been in good company.”

“I know of your reputation. And while you and Bradley have come up with near genius solutions to a plethora of Wall Street’s issues, I’d like to remind you of your infamy on the street for certain behaviors.” It’s as if he silently sent out a message to the woman, Winry, at his arm, Ling and Lan Fan, who all casually dissipate into the mingling bodies around them, “ I’m not my brother’s keeper, but I very well could be something much worse if provoked. He’s not some CEO’s daughter for you to play with, Mr. Mustang.”

“I wouldn’t be so narrow minded as to assume as such.” 

“Good.” He glances off to the side, hiding his hands in his pockets, “Well, it seems my date has wandered off. It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“You as well.” Roy replies, dually noting the rough brush past of Alphonse’s bicep against him. He knows this should intimidate him to some extent; he sleeping with a man, a man who qualifies to be one of the multiple rising star guests to the prestigious Yao Gala would land him and Ed on the front of every tabloid in Manhattan. 

But, he didn’t care. No, Edward was not a CEO’s daughter that Roy could lure and toy with and that fact excited him to no end. 

\---  
The ice is melted quite considerably when he arrives to the bar, which is about all that was left in the tumbler glass when he sits beside the brooding blond. He signals for the bartender and orders a vodka. Riza inspired him. Ed visibly tenses as he grinds his teeth, casting halfhearted glowers every few seconds until he spits out, “What?”

“What?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Now isn’t a good time.”

“When would be a good time, Edward? We’re the only two at this bar.”

“I told you, it’s Ed.”

The vodka arrives; it’s gone in two deep gulps, “Ed. Why did you want to keep this casual?”

“I told you, you’re some Wall Street big shot, which I guessed on by the way, I had no idea you were the head of Centra-”

“Why does that matter to you?”

“I’m not after your money.” He turns to fully face him, “I’m not here to blackmail you. I don’t want to end up in the magazines as some fresh piece of ass that’s been seduced by your experimental phase. I don’t know what I am to you and I don’t know what you are to me, but I do know I like our late night dinners and I liked whatever happened last night and this morning. You heard Ling. My brother and I are on the verge of some serious breakthroughs with some bio-chem work we’ve been doing in grad school. We’ve gotten enough shit our entire lives because of how young we are, how fast we’ve progressed and I don’t need more shit because some old man doesn’t know when to keep it in his pants.”

Roy blinks, “…old man.”

“Sorry.” He bites his lip to think before standing up, “That’s why I want to keep this casual. We can be…friends if you want or whatever. But I don’t think it would be smart to be anything other than that.”

He surveys him. When he stands at the same time Roy sits they’re around the same height, nearly nose to nose. He can smell the alcohol on Ed’s words and hear the fear and uncertainty in his voice. He likes how in this light his hair looks almost like bronze and how well that suit traces the contours of his body. He loves how freely this man speaks to him not caring enough to censor his vocabulary, or perhaps it was care that made him not sugar coat anything. He wants him, he’s never wanted anyone like this before, this suddenly, and it’s a strange sensation starting to fester inside him and he can hardly stand it. Certainly he cannot fully figure out what to do with Ed this close to him, this flushed from talking too quickly. 

Again his body continues to just act as he too leaves his seat, placing a firm hand on Ed’s shoulder and steers him away from the bar. He’s been at this hotel before, knows it like the back of his hand and is very aware of where the vacant ballrooms are. 

“I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.” He starts, maintaining a lowered tone as they weave between people, his vision blurring, his steps heavy yet somehow still light, “That’s the last thing I’d want. And I’ll be honest; I don’t know what I’m doing with you right now, or what this even is right now. But I agree, I’ve liked nearly everything that’s come from it so far.” 

They were in the right hallway, or at least he thinks they are, all the hallways in hotels look the same. The doors are also nearly identical which doesn’t help him in his current state but he doesn’t care. Ed’s lips form that intoxicating little noise of someone about to speak as Roy tightens his grip on his shoulder and opens the door to a dark, unattended ballroom dressed in stacked tables and chairs. He then shoves both of them inside. Immediately, he shoves Ed against the closed door, gripping his shoulders tightly between his hands and crushes their lips together, as if it were by the taste of Ed’s whiskey stained mouth that he was aloud to live. Ed returns the kisses with equivalent need as his hands reach up, one presses against Roy’s chest and the other wraps around his neck, forcing them closer. 

Breathlessly he brushes some stray hairs from Ed’s face and kisses him again and again, unsure of when the words started bubbling out, “But I know…” a few more kisses on his lips, then his jaw, “…I know that I want you.” , a moan reverberates at the back of Ed’s throat and Roy draws it out by forcing a knee between Ed’s thighs, “…I want whatever the fuck this is…” they start feverishly kissing one another, Edward’s fingers play with the hair at the nape of Roy’s neck while he works to get the tie off, “…I want it for as long as we can have it.”

A barely audible laugh trickles into Roy’s ear as Ed licks on the shell of it and his hand starts to rub against the front of his crotch, “As do I…Roy.”

He smiles as Ed starts to work on his neck, shuttering in pleasure as his hand moves deeper into Roy’s crotch area, applying more force. In retaliation, Roy tears off the hairband holding Edward’s hair up, indulging in the luxury of having that golden silk running between his fingers. He then starts to undo Ed’s belt buckle which causes him to stop, placing a single finger against Roy’s lips, who copies Ed from this morning and starts to suckle on it. 

“Not tonight.” Edward slurs, withdrawing his finger, “I have to be home…” he reaches into the breast pocket of his suit, producing a small card and runs it along Roy’s bottom lip before depositing it in his trouser pocket, “It has my cell phone number on it. I believe you owe me lunch.”

“You little shit.” He growls as he leans against the wall, memorizing the sight of Edward Elric in that goddamn suit with his hair down, dimly lit and escaping out into the hallway as if he was never there.

\---

It’s still a mystery as to how he got to the Hughes residency in Brooklyn, and its an even more difficult one on how he was allowed into the Hughes household in his intoxicated state. But he had somehow found himself on Maes’ master bed, phone between his hands as he grins wickedly at the tiny screen. 

He secured lunch plans with Edward. 

“I’m in love Hughes.” He smiles as Maes cleans his glasses on his night shirt.

“No, you’re drunk.” 

“That too.”

“Is that why you keep grinning at your phone like an idiot?”

“Maybe.”

Maes perches the glasses back on his nose, surveying Roy splayed out on the bed, unsure how exactly he’d be peeling him off of it this time, “And don’t fall asleep in your suit, Gracia’s not going to iron it again.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frozen band-aids, angst and rough sex, what more could you want in a RoyEd fan fic?
> 
> Also hi, I updated, thanks for staying around this long, friend. :)

Gracia ironed the suit much to Maes’ dismay.

Elecia asked why ‘Uncle Roy’ was ‘sleepy on the couch again.’ 

And it was during Maes’ explanation of ‘adults not always making good choices’ is when Roy was starting to wake up. He doesn’t remember how he got to the living room much less the couch and he certainly can’t recall when he left the master bedroom. But one thing was very clear as he feels Elecia’s tiny hand on his forehead as she checks his temperature, that he had one of the best spontaneous make out sessions of his life last night. Hazed memories of a torrent of golden blond hair slipping out of the abandoned ballroom drift through his mind as Elecia’s small lips replace her hand as she pets his hair. 

Forcing his eyes open he lets out a yawn, reaching out to playfully flick one of the fuzzy pigtails poking out of the side of her head, “Hey.”

“Hi!” she grins, she’s lost another tooth, “Daddy said that you were stupid last night.”

He props his jaw on his palm as he turns to watch Maes follow Gracia into the kitchen. Their conversation about Gracia taking Elecia out to some shopping trip turns into ‘what do I need to pick up for dinner, dear?’ Elecia bullies her way to the cove of Roy’s stomach, her toy purse between her hands as she starts pulling out child’s medical equipment, “You look sick Uncle Roy.” She announces, “I’ll make you feel better.”

Roy retires back to the couch cushions. He readjusts himself to allow the toddler to sit on his stomach, giving himself a front row view of her starting to haphazardly wrap a plastic stethoscope around his wrist then begin to carefully peel apart Band-Aids. 

“Thanks, Princess.”, she sticks a Band-Aid on the back of his hand, “What am I sick with?”

“You’re sick with stupid.” She replies as is she’s the expert in these matters. 

“Stupid, huh? How can I recover?”

She holds up the Band-Aid box, ‘Frozen’ themed, for a moment before resuming to unwrap and stick them to his arms, “These. They’ll get rid of the stupid.”

“Using the most innovative technology, I’m honored.” She pats down what she believes is the final Band-Aid, “How long until the stupid is gone, doctor?”

She shrugs as she climbs off his stomach, “Dunno.”

And just like that, she and her little medical purse are gone. Gracia calls to her daughter to ‘come on’ because ‘they’ll be out too late if they don’t get a move on now.’ Hughes adoringly gushes over how ‘cute his little angel looks with her big girl purse and new pink dress’ before his affectionate rant winds down to give his wife a few departing kisses. 

Roy closes his eyes listening to the family, listening to a scene he never had in his upbringing. This would be the part where he would start an internal rant on how jealous he is of Elecia due to her loving father, unlike his, and dutiful mother, who is alive unlike his. Here is where he could reel in all of the strange memories of accidentally calling his nanny, ‘Ms. Christmas’ he nicknamed her because he couldn’t say ‘Christianson’ when he was Elecia’s age, which was when his mother passed. Maybe his father as well ought to have died in that car crash, it might’ve made things less complicated and confusing for Roy while he grew up. 

But, here is where Roy isn’t jealous or envious as he eavesdrops the Hughes family morning. He likes it; he’s always liked it. Elecia is a lucky girl. She’s also the closest thing to a daughter Roy predicts he’ll ever have and he would never be envious that a child has a happy upbringing. 

He stretches on the couch as Elecia asks her father ‘what kinda M M’s he wants’ and Hughes starts on word vomit about how he doesn’t care so long as they’re from her. Roy’s hand slip into his pockets out of habit to have the right one pricked by the familiar edge of a business card. Retracting it he opens his eyes to gaze on a white card with the name ‘Edward Elric, Bio-Chemical Engineer and Researcher’ in deep red text. Below that was his email, website and phone number. A grin threatens to break his face as he rubs his thumb over Ed’s name. 

The front door closes. Footsteps shuffle back to the living room. The ‘shlump’ of papers hitting a coffee table tears Roy from starting to type Edward’s website in his phone’s Internet browser. Hughes sits on the armchair closest to the couch with is hands steepled in front of his lips. Sensing that now is the time to act like an adult, Roy sits upright as he starts massaging the night out his neck. 

“You know I don’t read the papers.” He jokes as he stands up to stretch.

“You might want to.” Hughes replies, “Infamous Playboy Roy Mustang, Moving to Hobbies Other Than Womanizing.”

“Jesus Christ.” Fingering through the papers he finds the headline, in the goddamn socialite section tucked right beside an article about some Jenner and what she wore last night. Right beside the headline Hughes quoted was a photo of Roy and Edward walking down the hallway right before their coveted ‘seven minutes in heaven’, with Roy’s hand tightly gripping Ed’s shoulder and the two of them mid-conversation. He scans the article relieved that they hadn’t pinpointed who Edward is just yet but there was another shot of Ed walking down the hallway of the ballroom with his gorgeous hair in a beautiful mess. The article wasn’t sure if Roy was experimenting with men but they are dying to figure out this mystery blond. “Well. There are worse things to be in the paper for.”

“Roy.”

“What?”

“You’re about to take over your father’s company. I’m not going to be the one to give you the lecture I’m sure Bradley’s given you already.”

“Thank you, the first time was enough. Do you have any coffee left?”

“Kitchen.” Hughes trails Roy as he pulls down a ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug from the cabinet and fills it with coffee, “I’m not kidding here. Drop the kid.”

“He’s twenty-two.” Or was it twenty-one?

“Whatever. He’s too young, he’s drawing attention.” Hughes rests a palm on the counter as he muses for the right words, “I want to say I understand where you’re coming from here. But I can’t. To be honest it’s strange to see you with a man much less a man this young. I don’t think this is a good idea. And hey, if you want to…experiment with him or guys like him that’s your business, but keep it out of the papers.”

The coffee is cold but he didn’t care. Forcing down the lukewarm liquid Roy shrugs as his phone silently hums in his pocket, “It’s not even on a front page headline, it’s at the bottom. Plus, no one is going to care enough about this. I’m not a huge name to gain enough momentum for this story. It’ll be over in a week, maybe two if some television network thinks it’s worth their time.”

He checks his phone. Two texts from Ed.

Text one: Hey Infamous Playboy.

Text two: No.

A frown ruins the already staling taste of the coffee as Hughes starts launching into another lecture, “Okay, fine. Say it blows over. Say you are seen with this kid again and it blows up again but bigger because this is strike two. You don’t have a streak with men, much less men ten years younger than yourself. It just looks bad.”

“My sexuality is no ones business.” Roy murmurs as he types a reply of ‘No? So the headline’s scared you out of a free lunch? Pity.’

“Yeah, but it becomes people’s business when-” Hughes massages his temple, “Just be really careful here. You’re starting to get out into depths you haven’t had to tread in and it’s not just you anymore, it’s your company. Don’t jeopardize your livelihood for some fling.”

“It’s an affair.” Roy answers as Ed responds with a ‘Lunch is only on because we need to talk. Meet you in an hour, your call on where.’ He quickly types in the address to a steak place closer to the West Side then pockets his phone, “I’ll be careful and quash any rumors. You didn’t hear? I’m breaking into the medical field, it’s best that I get to know the men behind the leading innovations in the pharmaceutical world.”

Hughes visibly deflates in what Roy will dismiss as relief as he places a now empty mug on the counter, “I’ve got to go to a lunch meeting. Thank Gracia for ironing my suit; let’s all get dinner Thursday. On me.”

“Damn right it’s on you.” Hughes mutters as he rinses out the mug. 

\---

Of course it is raining when the car reaches the restaurant. Immediately Roy’s eyes land on a sulking figure wedged into a miniscule alcove with his arms tightly folded across his stomach. He thanks the driver before exiting the vehicle. The slam of the car door draws Edward’s attention to him as he approaches the other, his heart hammering in his chest. 

No. 

We need to talk.

He’s heard those words before and he knows how paying the check afterwards goes. 

“You could’ve waited inside.” Roy greets, close enough now to see smaller lengths of hair running golden streams on Ed’s forehead, stuck from the rain. 

He looks stunning half misted, pressed against dark grey brick wearing an expression favoring murder. His frown deepens as he lowers his arms from their folded position, “There’s not much room to wait. Plus the host is gay and he’s persistent.”

“Can you blame him?” Roy burns to brush the strands off Ed’s forehead, “…should we even bother with going inside?” 

“Why would you say that?”

“Your texts. I’ve seen them before. With all due respect, if you’re going to break this off just do it now without us forcing ourselves through a situation neither of us wants to endure.”

A long sigh expels from Edward as he stuffs his hands in his coat pockets then he kicks at the ground, “It’s…it’s not that I want to.” He turns his head so that his bangs hide most of his face as he stares at the passing traffic for a handful of moments that last eternity for Roy, “It’s complica-fuck, no it’s really not complicated. I said it at the bar and I’ll say it again now. I’m not going to be some scarlet-lettered headline for you to fuck. You’re lucky Ling’s father already signed my brother and I to the company, otherwise I’d be shoving my boot five miles up your ass over that headline.” He runs a hand through his hair, “Plus I’m just an experiment for you, right? Some fantasy you’re finally getting out of your system from college or some shit. Yeah, I like sex with you, but you’re not gay.”

“Does my being gay or straight matter?” 

“Yeah, it kinda does. Because I can list off way too many straight motherfuckers that like playing around in bed, that know how to take shit too far and then…” his nose wrinkles as he suppresses a snarl, “Forget it. You’ve seen my texts before? I’ve seen guys like you before. It doesn’t end well for me.”

“Why won’t it end well for you, Edward?” he steps closer, fear flashes in those golden eyes for a brief moment, “Alright, you’ve been seen with me in a newspaper. They didn’t say your name. They only speculate about my sexuality. If anything I should be pissed at you for leaving that room obviously displaying that you’ve been up to headline worthy behavior.” He’s got the younger man cornered as he casually leans against the side of the building, “They have nothing on this, not yet. Besides, there’s nothing to be had here. You said it yourself, this whole ordeal between us is fairly meaningless.”

Hurt flickers in Ed’s eyes for a fraction of a second before his walls fly up. He roughly shoves Roy away, “Fuck you. Yeah, it’s not supposed to mean something? Then why the hell is your lonely ass always asking me out to dinners and shit? You need this. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m lonely?!” he roughly grips the forearm that shoved him away, “I could get anyone in this fucking city, you’ve said it yourself. I could go anywhere on the weekends, but I end up in that stupid bar-”

“Because you’re chasing after something you think you can’t have!”

“Or maybe I don’t want anyone who will melt in my hands so easily, maybe I want to spend my time with someone I have to work for. Who will send the most infuriating, confusing mixed signals-”

“Fucking you and getting food isn’t exactly that confusing, Mustang! Some people call that ‘casually fucking’, ‘friends with benefits’, for someone with such a reputable sexual history you’d think you’d know-”

“It’s different with you! I don’t even know if we’re friends!”

“Oh, so you need a fucking confirmation with fucking bracelets and us braid each other’s hair? You make me fucking sick. You’re just a lonely old man burnt out on wannabe stripper ass and are looking for some sick sugar baby bullshit to fill whatever void you-” 

“You’re lonely too, Edward, don’t make me out to be some desolate bastard who has no social life. You need this; you want this just as much if not more than I do. You like the attention, you like the nice dinners, you like fucking someone who-”

“Don’t pin this on me! You should’ve told me you were some big shot that would gain media attention.”

“Why is that even a concern of yours?”

He grinds his teeth then wets his lips, “I’m…avoiding certain attention from certain people. Being in the papers isn’t exactly doing me any favors.”

“What kind of attention?”

“It’s none of your damn business.”

Silence.

“Are you in trouble?” 

More silence.

“If you are I-”

“So. What kind of steak place is this? Rodney, our favorite neighborhood host, has been so kind as to reserve us a table. Best not keep him waiti-”

“Edward.”

The name came out harsher than intended but his blood is cold, the strange pull of the universe was telling him that things with Edward were not adding up. He hadn’t realized that he even reached out for Ed’s arm until he releases it. The air becomes stagnant, too cold as a hand sneaked out of Edward’s pocket to roughly rub on the back of his neck. He reluctantly meets Roy’s stare. 

“Mind if we take a walk?”

“It’s raining.”

“So? I’m not scared of a cold or the flu or whatever. You?” 

He stands beside him; he wants to kiss him to wordlessly show that he cares. Damn, he already cares. “I’m not scared of the cold or flu.”

“Good.”

\---

Edward Elric does a thing Roy hasn’t seen since his mother was alive for a very brief time in his life: nervous walk. He even does strange things with his hands as she did years ago. Roy didn’t find himself minding, he likes to watch Ed in the way artists must enjoy gazing upon what they will immortalize in art. The contours of the younger man’s body, face and the very way his lips purse then flat line as he thinks, that alone is an art form.

It isn’t until they reach Central Park that a word is said, or more of something is said. And that sometime is not a word but more of a weird grunt mixed with a swallow as Edward slows his nervous walk to a nervous meander as he relaxes. His golden eyes search their immediate area as if double-checking that it was really just he, Roy and the pigeons. 

“It started in high school.” He begins behind a cleared throat, “My brother and I are from D.C. We left for college with our childhood friend, Winry. She was the blond girl with our group last night. We all grew up in the city. When Mom died, Winry’s old lady, Granny, took Al and I in. She helped us manage what little money Mom had left and made sure we stayed out of trouble best she could. But, even with help and part time jobs money was hard to come by. And even with a lot of college offers and scholarship we were still looking at a shit ton of debt.” 

He inhales deeply as he kicks at the sidewalk, “Certain…substances hit the school and they were a big hit. A few kids were joking about a little business revenue with an outside source and joking turned into something a bit more serious. Al and I were always really short on money so it made sense. So I followed in their little scheme for a while. We talked about creating something new on the market; I tossed around a few combinations and came up with a new sort of heroin. They didn’t think I was real about it or whatever, so they made me prove it. So I did.” 

He bites his lip as his walk slows, “I was a teacher’s aid, had access to a lot of shit. I was in charge of putting in orders for experiments for the chem teachers. So adding on a few extra ingredients here and there was no big deal. I had a place to make it, I knew my teacher’s schedule and I had keys and shit.” 

They come across a bench, Ed takes a seat, “We sold it to a few dealers, and it was a huge hit. Called ‘Philosopher’s Stone’ because of how it was made when you melted it, it was red.” Ed massages his face, “I got so much fucking money off of it. I told Al I was working three jobs and that there was a secret trust fund Granny was keeping from us to make all of the numbers add up. I’m sure he figured it the fuck out.” A long sigh, “Anyways, after the DEA started taking notice, I dropped. I dropped so fucking fast. But there’s still people who will come around, who will find me and try to get me back into that line of work.” 

His piercing eyes lock onto Roy, “That’s why I can’t afford being seen in your little sexual escapades. I can’t afford people coming out of the woodwork and finding out about this. It would ruin my career before it even started. No one would trust me in bio-chem ever. I’d be lucky to be a cashier at Mc Fucking Donald’s.”

He rubs his face with his hands as if all of the skin hiding his skull were an itching mess. The frenzy goes along enough to allow Roy to process Edward’s entire story. It is strange to hear him suddenly spill all of these deep details, but he’s seen this desperate tactic on Wall Street with investors and brokers that trust his company well enough. It’s usually best to tell all and hope your allies can help you rebuild your structure with security than hope they’ll catch your burning remains as you crash. Edward’s metaphorical business is at threat of crashing and burning, he trusts Roy with his funds and business plans. 

Instinct begs him to embrace the man beside him, but logic keeps him at bay. The thought of Ed being a shark in the water in the D.C. drug trade was insane to him. To imagine that blond haired mess in his bed or that well put together young man at the gala was capable of running with low-end drug dealers was absurd to him. However, he had a dark past himself, and he would be a liar if he too did not get swept up in the Philosopher’s craze when it hit the Manhattan underground. Roy never tried it, drugs were never his forte, but underground dealing and covert contracts did enthrall him for a time when he returned from military service. He remembers Jean Havoc getting hooked on Philosopher’s for a while; the mesmerizing red puddle in the teaspoon was enticing but not so much so for him to try it himself. It took two hard rounds of rehab to fully get Havoc off it for good. 

A muted groan draws him away from his thoughts. Water barely lines the bottom of Edward’s eyes as he rakes a hand through his hair, “…you’re wearing a wire aren’t you? This whole thing with us has been some intricate cop bullshit to get me to confess and-”

“No…not at all. Thank you, Edward, for trusting me enough to say these things to me.”

Ed rolls his eyes violently as he stuffs his hands deeper into his pockets. Roy carefully places a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll be more mindful of the public eye from now on. I’m sorry.”

It is as if someone switched the anger off inside of Edward, his eyes widen in disbelief as his defensive stance deflates. His crossed arms fall to his sides as he swallows thickly, the action forcing his clenched jaw to relax. The water that lines his eyes falls on his already rain stained cheeks, a weak smile brightens his features as he wipes at his face. “Thanks.”

Roy longs to pull him to his chest and wipe that water away himself. He sees the beginnings of being able to have that luxury to touch Ed so willingly but he’s so impatient. Settling to brush hair from Ed’s eyes he tests his limitations and allows his hand to linger on that impossibly warm skin for a few moments longer than needed. “While I stand by my words, I am not scared of a cold or flu or whatever, I am getting rather cold and I know you’ve been out in his horrid weather longer than I have. Shall we get inside somewhere? Still up for steak?”

He shakes his head, “No. I’m not hungry. I’ll just head home or something. Grab a cab or something.”

“Why don’t you come back to my place? It’s not that far from here.” He pinches at Ed’s coat, the dark red is an even darker shade from being nearly soaked, “You’re probably already going to get a cold from wearing these.”

A shrug, “I’ve had worse.” He gazes around the park as if expecting to see Roy’s apartment building nearby, “So. Where’s your place?”

“About seven blocks this way.”

They start their trek to the apartment complex, the entire time their hands awkwardly bump into one another, and neither of them seems to mind. 

\---

The apartment is a sauna compared to the cutting icy rain outside. As they strip off their clothes in the doorway, Roy wonders if he’s started to go mad from being around Ed. After all, he normally wouldn’t be caught dead wandering New York like some day dreaming moron. As he sheds his layers he shows no restraint in keeping an eye on the man beside him struggling to get his sopping wet jeans off. He especially has no complaints when the jeans finally do come off leaving that same man in nothing but damp underwear that clings to every crevice of his body. 

Ed gathers his clothing in his arms, “Where do I put these?”

“Here.” Roy takes them, putting them in the laundry chute, “I’ll text my cleaning lady and ask her to get those cleaned as soon as she can. Do you have anywhere to be?”

“No. I don’t mind waiting.”

He nods, typing away on his phone as he meanders to his bedroom, motioning for his guest to follow. With the text sent off, he sets the phone down to comb through his clothing, searching for some older clothes he may have that would fit Edward better. Although he quite enjoyed how large the button-up was on him the other day. Finding a medium sized thermal and a medium sized trouser, he presents them to Ed. “They’re my smallest sizes I have. I hope they somewhat fit.”

“You tryin’ to say something, Mr. Mustang?”

“Not at all.” Surely Ed was aware of his stature, although he is stocky, well built and somehow lean, he was undoubtedly what most would call ‘short’, Roy finds it attractive, endearing even. “I’ll leave so you can have privacy to change.”

He scoffs, “Privacy. Sure. Is that what you call blatantly staring at my dick for the past ten minutes?”

“I-”

“You’re not very subtle. I don’t blame you; I won’t lie and say I don’t enjoy seeing you in only your rain soaked pants. And I won’t lie and say that I don’t like seeing you without a shirt.”

A few steps and they’re nearly touching chests. He lifts a hand to trace the shorter man’s collarbone then down his chest. His finger hits the start of the nasty burn that consumed most of Ed’s right arm and licked into his torso. While some may be repulsed by it, he found it beautiful. “So you won’t lie to me by saying you don’t like this?”

A thick swallow, “I see no point in denying it.”

A step forward on Edward’s behalf furthers his point, granting Roy permission to lean down to kiss on his neck, to wrap his hands around that waist and bring him closer. His lips and teeth work dutifully to leave evidence that they shared this space, loving every gasp and suppressed moan that reverberates underneath the skin Roy dirties. He rakes his nails down the waist he grasps only to drag them back up and roughly slap Ed’s ass, immediately gripping it as if to silently show that it was his and his alone. The body between his hands trembles, a whimper whispers past the lips he so horribly wishes to kiss as he leads kisses of his own down that perfect torso. He savors how thick but well proportioned his newfound lover feels under his fingers, how he just barely rolls his hips forward in silently demand how his breathing is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever heard. 

Finally, he reaches the damp band of his boxers, light blue, the same as the last time they were together. Darting his tongue out he laps underneath the cotton band as his hands reluctantly leaves their game of tormenting Ed’s nipples to free him of his final piece of clothing. Height aside, short is the farthest word Roy would use to describe the erection before him, if anything it is surprising at the length and thickness for a man of the stature it is attached to. Something in the largeness of it enthralls him, a silent challenge as to if he could truly handle this brand of lovemaking. Yes, he had been in this same stance when they first had sex, but he wasn’t sober then, he hadn’t fully had the time to truly appreciate the act.

He breathes hotly against the sensitive skin, ghosting kisses along the length of it then he allows his tongue to drag a long, slow line on the underside, rewarding him with an angry hand in his hair and a sharp hiss. With one hand he cups the other sensitive area underneath where his mouth works, getting a quivering moan coupled with a breathy, “Fuck.”

Good, he is building him up right where he wants him. His tongue and lips tenderly kiss and stroke the tip of the erection, carefully making way to envelop more and more of the other man’s cock. As his tongue works tirelessly to run up against every inch of soft skin as possible, his jaw begins to ache as he opens it wider and wider to make as much room as possible for all the action he experiments. He works with piecing Edward together by doing different things and gauging his nearly silent reactions. 

The deeper he takes him into his throat, the deeper and more exasperated the moans become. When he spends more time on the head, smaller more desperate moans come from him. However, when he took him just the right way where the length is played with his tongue and the head of Edward’s cock is at the back of his throat while he bobs his head while Roy moans to force vibration against the sensitive area, that gets him that ragged gasped moan that he near-lives for. And its when he tries that for the third time that the climax happens and he willingly swallows it back before pulling away to wipe his mouth off with the back of his hand. 

Edward stumbles to the bed’s edge, he grips Roy’s hair in his hand as he does so and forces their lips together. He joins their mouths in a terrible urgency that’s laced with bliss and exhaustion, as if Roy had fucked him thoroughly instead of sucking him off. The kisses slow as Roy lazily climbs into bed, pushing Edward into the mattress. He pins him there by lacing his fingers together at the crown of Ed’s head, playing with a few strands of hair that catches in his hands. Equally lax arms slide up Roy’s chest and drape on his neck, one hand halfheartedly stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. 

They stop and stare at one another, dark grey eyes lock on constantly moving golden ones. They both smile and then kiss again, harder. The kisses change into bites, Edward’s surprisingly sharp teeth nibble on Roy’s bottom lip. He gasps as he gathers the smaller man into his arms, stretching a hand down to roughly grip his ass. Ed grins against a kiss before he moves to kiss on Roy’s jawline, his teeth scraping against the skin protecting the bone, leading a rough trail to Roy’s neck where Ed proceeds to show no mercy. He sucks and nips at the skin with expert care. Such expertise draws a few stifled moans from Roy, as he holds to him tighter, cupping his returning erection. A loud moan tears from him as Ed increases the urgency of the kisses he leaves on Roy’s skin and begins to kiss on his body lower and lower. His hands work feverishly to disrobe Roy of his remaining clothes. He breathes heavily, lying beneath him with his hands firmly planted on his pecks. 

Golden eyes linger on Roy’s body for a moment then flicker up to bare into Roy’s stare as he marvels at how a man could be so handsome and beautiful all at once. How this man suddenly emerged from the shadows of his life and brought this strange, disorienting light into his life. And how he could care less of the repercussions of allowing that light into his life as those horribly delectable lips began to indulge in marring his body once again. His hold on Edward increases as the blond tries to slip past his grasp to get between his legs. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, breathing deeply against Edward’s ear, gaining a slight shudder.

“Where do you think I’m going?” a hand manages to teasingly fondle Roy’s painfully erect cock, “You’ve had that going since you were on your knees earlier.”

“Well…I had other ideas in mind on how to rid of it.” He bites on the outer shell of Ed’s ear, “On your knees, Edward.”

He cuts him a curious expression, one that Roy couldn’t quite place, but one distinguishable emotion on Edward’s nearly un-readable expression was lust. His mouth opens to speak, but he decides otherwise. A smirk dances on his lips for a moment then he slowly sits upright, now straddling Roy’s lap. Giving a deep kiss he keeps their lips inches apart as he murmurs, “Yes, Mr. Mustang.”, before then slipping away to do as he was told. 

Impatience overwhelms the thrill of taking ones time as Roy slips off the bed and to his nightstand table. His hands tremble slightly as he fumbles around for lubricant and a condom. Finally having them in hand he gazes at the sight on the edge of his bed, Edward standing on its rim on his knees. Two calves dangle off the edge, one smooth, perfect and prickled with thick blond hair and the other equally smooth but marred with angry burn scars that serves as a completely different terrain from the rest of Edward’s body save for most of his right arm. Roy still years to know their backstory, knowing of Ed’s history with the drug ring, he could see a long list of possibilities that could’ve spawned from him getting into the wrong situation. However the scars came to be, he didn’t care, he only wanted to indulge in the man attached to them, and make sure that man knew that Roy would still want him with or without the marks.

Running a hand up Edward’s scarred calf, he continues the line of action up the back of his thigh, his ass and then rests on the small of his back which is where he roughly grips and shoves forward, forcing Ed to his hands. “On all fours.” 

A scoff comes from Ed as Roy lathers a hand in lubricant. The bottle rests on the nightstand table with the cap off as he places two fingers at Edward’s entrance. His fingers work as his other hand begins to pump the other man’s erection. Bending over, he speaks against his ear, “How do you want me to take you, Edward?”

“From behind, Mr. Mustang.”

God his voice is intoxicating in that quivering whisper. He wonders if it’s done on purpose. 

“How roughly do you want me to fuck you?”

“Very rough.”

One finger is in, a hitched breath escapes the blond as a second is inserted shortly after. Roy begins to work him as he licks at his ear, teasing the tip of his cock, “You make me so fucking hard seeing you like this, behaving for once, doing as I ask you.”

“…kinky bastard.”

“Says the man on his hands and knees for that same bastard.” He grips Ed’s member tighter, “You’re getting harder. You like it, kinky bastard.”

He lets out a soft whimper when Roy lets go of his cock. His fingers grip the sheets tight in anticipation as he hears the gentle crinkling of the condom wrapper opening. Roy rolls the plastic over his erection ensuring its security then removes his fingers. 

Bent over Edward, he growls in his ear, “I hope you weren’t planning on walking tomorrow.”

Edward opens his mouth to retaliate, but feels the abrupt replacement of Roy’s fingers for Roy’s cock, the sensation better than their first night together. A torn gasp rips his throat as his body jolts from the intrusion. Firm hands wrap around Ed’s waist as Roy begins to teasingly thrust himself further and further into Edward. Just as with the other times they had fucked, Ed was impossibly tight and that almost took Roy over the edge, but he held back. He’d be damned if he would give reason to have his stamina mocked again. 

Within a few minutes, he’s fully inside him, the warmth bordering overwhelming, his senses becoming overloaded. Wetting his lips, he grips a fistful of Edward’s hair, forcing his head back, loving the sight of that jawline forced backwards. He roughly kisses on his ear and neck, messily sucking and biting on the skin, gasping, “I like your hair, its useful.”

A smirk begins to toy on Ed’s lips, but that suddenly breaks into another throaty moan as Roy abruptly pulls out and slams back into him, using a fistful of golden locks to steady him. He starts with a high pace not leaving much room for forgiveness, hoping this is the roughness Edward asked for. Judging by the gasped moaning, he’d venture to guess that the pace is acceptable and increases it.

The fact of Edward’s maddeningly tight body was becoming a problem for Roy’s stamina. While he wouldn’t have ever labeled himself as a low stamina individual in the past, he had never been up against this variant of partner. He also had a throbbing cock since swallowing Ed’s orgasm and has a carnal need for release. Pounding harder, he stoops over the other, stroking his member for a few moments before gripping his hips, “Do us both a favor, Edward, and arch your back.”

“The fuck you say, basta-”

“You’ll thank me.” He breathes as he forces Edward’s body into the position he longed for, savoring the sight of the contours of the other man’s body in that pose.

Immediately, a loud moan rings out as Edward’s head is thrown back, his hips moving almost what seemed to not be by his own accord as he starts desperately thrusting into the bed best he could, “Oh fuck, Mustang. Fuck…holyshitwhatdidyou…” a louder groan interrupts seemingly unintelligible mumbling. 

Taking the opportunity, he ramps the pace up to all he has. Pulling the hair in his fingers back, he guides the other into as arched of a position as possible as he continues on, his own body now at that embarrassing autopilot to where his hips move at their own leisure in a primal demanding for release. In a matter of seconds he hears Edward scream out in pleasure then choke up on the bliss of his orgasm, while Roy follows in suit a few moments after. 

Breathless, he slowly pulls out, taking a few stabling breaths. His vision still was returning to him as he collapses onto the bed, hooking an arm around Edward’s torso to pull him against his chest. Catching on, Ed rolls into Roy’s chest, allowing for them to tumble onto the mattress in a tired, sweaty mess. 

Two sets of exhausted breaths fill the room as the men come down from their high. The gentle smack of Ed wetting his lips is a newfound music to Roy’s ears, “Well, fuck, Mustang. I don’t think I’ve been fucked like that in a long time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interruption from smut to give you this plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, so I'm not dead and neither is this fic so please stop putting in requests to pick it up. :) 
> 
> I graduated college so when I'm not having a mental breakdown and crying over job applications, I'll have more time to write this little ditty. 
> 
> This chapter sort of just wrote itself, so take a brief break from smut to have some plot. :) 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone reading, I'm sorry it's been so long, thank you for your kind words and please let me know how this chapter's working for you!

“The briefing meeting will be at nine o’ clock tomorrow morning, sir. If I were you I’d be there by eight thirty to meet and greet. I know you hate it, but considering the nature of the meeting as officially welcoming you to the company as the new head it is recommended that you are on your best behavior.”

Nothing but the gentle trickle of the shower and some shuffled movements replies. Maybe he was washing his hair or his body, Riza preferred to not indulge in such fantasies as she scrolled down on the itinerary lit up on her iPad. 

“After the meeting you’ll have a short press conference with a few new stations, most are local, some are national. I have already pre-screened their questions given your newfound scandal dying down from the gala. Refrain from any commentary about the boy you were seen with. Do not even say ‘no comment’ it’s still a comment, ignore it.”

A throat is cleared followed by the soft padding of feet moving on the smooth marble floor. The soft squeak of the shower turning off echoes in the bathroom and the gentle exhale of the door opening is shortly after. 

“Then you will be going downtown to a luncheon with Bradley and his colleagues. This is a huge moment for you, sir. These will be your colleagues and this will be your golden moment to really woo them over or at least start up your long-lasting relationships with them. Yes, they are older gentlemen that do not exactly share many similarities with you, but smile, nod and do whatever you need to maintain the company’s relationship with them.”

The ruffle of a towel scrubbing over wet skin responds. A few breathy comments on a razor knick are made under his breath. Annoyance starts to dig at Riza as she clicks the iPad off and gives the bathroom doorway a warning knock. 

“I’m not trying to be rude, Roy, but I’d appreciate some feedback, this isn’t just some-”

She halts with eyes wide to not see the naked form of Roy Mustang in his bathroom, but the naked form of a stocky blond man who looks a bit too much like her boss’ mystery companion from the gala. Clearing her throat she closes her eyes and angles herself away from the man as he slowly wraps the towel around his waist. 

“Um…” he breathes, “Roy left like an hour ago to get Starbucks and donuts. I can text him if you want any?” 

She cuts a harsh glare into him, “I can text him myself.”

Turning on her heel, she leaves the man in the bathroom alone to hurriedly finish up his current routine. Her blood was rushing, her mind was swaying in ways that could make her vomit and there was a very, very tight knot unceremoniously twisting up her stomach. 

In the kitchen, she braces herself against the cool granite countertop. Her palms press very firmly, deeply into the cold stone as she aches to press her forehead against it as well. Anything was comfort or relief in the strange shock that was hitting in more terrible waves as the reality of the rumors being true continues to slam into her. 

Should anyone ask Riza Hawkeye of her relationship with Roy Mustang, her response would be diligent and rehearsed. Roy Mustang is nothing more than her boss, her adult toddler that she makes spreadsheets for, organizes his life for and sees as more than just her superior in the workplace but a long-term friend. Should Roy Mustang himself as Riza Hawkeye of her relationship with him, her response would be hesitant and weighted as she ponders the situation and what reply will gain or lose. But at the end of whatever the response would be, it would dance around the lines of ‘We are colleagues in the workplace. I dictate what you do everyday the second you wake up. I manage your life. I know everything about you. I was a few good one night stands to you when we spent that time together in Europe, and you were the best thing that’s happened to me in all the time I’ve spent with you.’ Of course, that’s what she wishes she could say. Instead she’d only say half that and forget to add emotion to the words. Should Riza Hawkeye ask Riza Hawkeye of her relationship with Roy Mustang, her response would be blunt. Unrequited, dead end and fruitlessly waiting for someone of equal value to enter her life so she could finally muster the humility to let go of those few passionate nights tangled in his body and the bed sheets. 

But never would she imagine that he would find someone to force her humility and perhaps let go of those nights. She didn’t want to let go of them. She didn’t want to ever forget what his lips felt like against hers, or how large his hands were against her body. Never would she ever want to stop thinking about how his breath sounded in her ear or how he would touch her with a fired need intermingled with a delicacy of respect and trust. There were few forces that could force her to part with those memories as imaginary anchors that kept her latched to the fantasy that those nights may happen again. 

However, that reality was a few rooms over probably struggling to get his pants on. He was probably trying to cover those blistering hickies on his neck and collarbone. Maybe he was brushing his stupid long blond hair as he texted Roy of the mishap that just occurred. Perhaps he was having a similar internal freak-out wondering way too many things about Roy Mustang. 

But more likely than not he was worrying on if Roy would remember what flavor donut he wanted or how many shots of espresso he wanted in his coffee drink. The man in the shower was comforted with the privilege of being able to be in Roy’s home, to use his things, to be touched by him and to be wanted by him. All are privileges Riza almost yearns for.

Fed up with drowning in her own inner turmoil, she forces herself upright. Enough of this wallowing, it will get her nowhere. The way she saw it she had two options. One: continue being slumped over the countertop like a depressed ragdoll. Two: go to the liquor cabinet and get the nice champagne and pour a heaping glass. It’s Sunday, God damn it, and it’s five o’ clock somewhere. 

Mid-pour of a lovely French vintage, the blond man rounds from the corner. His eyes stealthily scan the area as he creeps into the kitchen. Capping the bottle, Riza takes a deep drink of the champagne as if it were water. Setting it down Riza nods to the table. 

“Why don’t you sit down?” he does so. She lifts the bottle, “Want any?”

He holds up a hand in declination, “No thanks. A bit too early for me, thanks.” 

Another deep drink. 

“So. I only ask out of pure curiosity and so that if the answer is yes, we can kick his ass together, are you Roy’s wife?”

Champagne is abruptly spewed on the countertop as Riza gasps for air through ragged coughs. She places a hand on her chest as if that could keep her lungs behind her skin. As she begins to regain her breath again, laughter starts to bubble from her lips as she shakes her head. Wiping her mouth she allows herself a few more laughs, as she answers, “No I’m not his wife. I’m his secretary.”

A stoic nod, “Ah. The secretary and boss office romance. I’m guessing I’m the spicy third party that’s here to excite the bedroom and Roy’s been buttering me up for the three-way proposal this whole time?”

This kid should write shitty romance novels in his spare time. 

“No. Roy Mustang and I do not have an ‘office romance’ and nor is this some scheme for a ‘spicy third party’ escapade. Whatever relationship you have with Roy is between you two, or three, however many is involved between you two.”

He smirks, “It’s just us as far as I know.”

‘Just us’ are the two words that forces Riza to throw back more of her drink. She lets the liquid sit on her tongue for a few moments, savoring how the alcohol fights with her mouth before swallowing. A slight exhale leaves her as she takes another drink doing her best to avoid those deep, golden eyes watching her. 

The second glass is poured when the door opens. Normally at the signal of that sound she would perk up just slightly, but today she deflates. Staying still she almost pretends as if she’s not here, as if she can invisibly observe the on goings between the two men. 

His footsteps get louder as the clinking of keys hitting the entryway table sound. The blond across the counter from her had apparently taken his phone out, he lowers it just enough to peer over it to watch the scene about to unfold before him by sidelong glance. 

“Edward?” Roy’s deep voice rumbles from around the corner, “Are you out of the shower? Apparently the bartender recognized your drink since you asked for six shots of espresso in a tall, he said you like coconut milk because you have a vendetta against cows milk?”

Slushing of the drinks and the crinkling of what Riza imagines is a donut bag fill the air where Edward’s reply should be. “I also got a dozen ‘pigs in a blanket’, which I figured would compensate the fact that I forgot to get the donut holes.”

His eyes were downcast as he readjusted the three bags from the donut shop and two drinks between his two arms. That impossibly dark hair wasn’t even combed, his five o’ clock shadow was starting to show and he was still in his sleepwear underneath his Calvin Klein zip-up hoodie. This was a look Riza had not seen in a long time, not since she was horribly inebriated and passed out on his couch a year ago. Roy had gone out to get coffee as a hangover cure for her. 

A slight flicker of frustration flashes over his expression as his lips move to say Edward’s name again but his jaw goes slack at the sight of Riza and Edward poised opposite one another in his kitchen. Riza stood in her business casual attire; Edward was in Roy’s old workout clothes, which were a few sizes too big on him. 

Riza has a plethora of adjectives that comes to Roy’s mind when he thinks of her: smart, strong, sexy, powerful, loyal, but in this moment all he can see is pain, defeat and suppressed sadness. To the untrained eye she may appear to be pissed, agitated or a bit too cranky, but Roy knew her, he know her too well for his own good, she was a new level of upset he hadn’t seen since her father passed. 

“Hm.” A tense smile spreads on Ed’s lips as he slips out of his seat, “Interesting. I’m going to hang out in the lobby for awhile.”

Roy says nothing as Edward roughly brushes past him and slams the door behind him. He slowly places the breakfast foods on the countertop, she drinks the champagne like it were nonalcoholic again. Griping the back of one of the bar chairs he tersely rubs his thumbs against the smooth leather. 

“Riza-”

“Please.” She wets her lips as she brushes her bangs off her forehead, “You don’t need to-”

“But I do.”

“Do you?” her impossibly endless brown eyes stab into him, “I’m your secretary, Roy. He’s your lover. If anything you should be consoling him.”

“He’s not my lover.”

“Then what is he?!” she didn’t mean to yell.

“…a friend.”

She scoffs. 

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated with you.”

“Not always.”

“Always.”

He moves closer, doing so in slow, calculated steps until he can reach out to hold her hand. He hated seeing her drink like that when she was upset. It reminded him too much of her father, “…what does this mean to you?”

Her eyes gleam at him behind suppressed tears. A wretched little sobbed gasp hiccups from her as she impulsively grabs his face, crushing their lips together. She closes her eyes as tight as they can, her body trembles as he stiffens but then relaxes. It takes all that she can to not completely break down into his arms as he wraps them around her. His kisses are meaningful and long, they are goodbyes. Wordless goodbyes to what they could have been and what they were for those few unforgettable moments. 

It stops. They stay by one another’s lips as if testing the gravity of the situation, to see if it would suddenly sway into a different favor. It doesn’t. 

She steps away. He stoically remains where he stands. She goes around the kitchen to get her purse, her iPad and her keys. He throws away the champagne and puts the glass in the kitchen sink. They give each other a long stare. Riza is the first to smile. 

“I loved you, you know.”

The smile is returned, “I still love you. Just differently than I did before.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you.” 

“If he hurts you-”

A laugh, “I know. I know.” 

She adjusts her purse. He awkwardly ruffles his own hair.

“I’ll email you the itinerary.”

“Thank you, Riza.”

“Anytime, Roy.”

\---

Despite his incessant need to control and helicopter all that his brother does, Alphonse does know when to let go and merely observe. It is a hard role to play especially when there are so many warning signs but he’s learnt to sit back and watch. He knows to wait until his brother gets himself into some complicated web and explodes when he’s done dealing with people and the complications they present. And when Edward does this, it’s usually for a small amount of time before he’s wasted all of his emotional capacity then retreats to recharging for the next affair. 

However, this fling with the billionaire from the gala has seemed to last longer than Alphonse would have ever predicted. Usually this would call for internal celebration; finally his intimately complicated brother has found someone willing to tolerate him for longer than a few one-night stands. But this, he can’t get a full read on and fears the worst. This man, Roy Mustang, Alphonse did his homework, a playboy, a billionaire, a man who uses sex and love the same way lesser men use drugs and alcohol. Roy Mustang was the type of man who preferred to play with shiny young women, not reclusive biochemical engineers. Roy Mustang is sexy, powerful and can get anything and anyone he so wishes, so why does he have his sights set on Ed?

The gala was a good indication of his intention, which was nothing more than sex from what Alphonse could gauge in how fast the man tracked his brother down to the bar. But there was a strange, childish awkwardness to him as if he were a nervous homecoming date meeting the father for the first time. As if he were a middle school kid toddling his way through a first love trying to learn the ropes and not get burned by them. 

This was one he’d have to spend a lot longer watching from the shadows. Which he found himself not terribly bothered. With Ed spun up in the love storm that was Roy Mustang, it left a lot of lonely nights in their tiny Brooklyn apartment, which led to teasing texts to Winry and resulted in not so lonely nights. 

It was nice being able to explore his physical boundaries with her without his brother screeching and pounding on the wall separating their rooms to ‘shut the fuck up or get a goddamn hotel!’ It was something out of a movie to wake up next to her, have her impossibly long platinum hair sprawled all over his bedding. To have her sweet scent the first thing to waft into his senses instead of Ed’s burnt toast and the chirruping of the fire alarm and the old lady for 2B curing the day his brother was born. They would enjoy the morning sun together, they would have lazy morning sex, they could just be together and not worry about any unwanted intrusions. 

And while that picturesque morning was what Alphonse was getting used to, it was not so much the case in this particular instance. 

It began with a phone call from Ed. He was whisper yelling because he was in public. Roy Mustang had broken his good boy streak and had a very pretty lady very upset in his kitchen. Ed was certain that Roy and the lady were married, or at least she was his girlfriend or ‘side hoe’ or something. He kept repeating that he ‘didn’t want to jump to conclusions’ that he was ‘certain Roy had a reasonable excuse’ but he was still jittery and ready to jump ship at the first sight of anything that so much resembled smoke. 

Alphonse knew how to handle this, he knew what to say to soothe his brother for a brief moment, long enough to get Ed’s mind to jump tracks and derail into another line of thinking. He did want this to work out for Ed, Roy had a strange spell over his brother that made him calmer, but ultimately Ed seemed happy, giddy almost. And while that was vaguely horrifying it was refreshing. 

“Alright. Yeah. I’ll talk to him.” Ed has nearly panted; he was struggling not being able to scream when he was upset. 

“You should also just go ahead and ask him out.” Alphonse reminded him, “Officially. I know it’s not what he’s used to, but it sounds like he wants something more than what you have going on and if you want to be able to reasonably kick him where the sun doesn’t shine, it’s better you actually have a title between you two.”

Edward let out a noise resembling an irritated cat, “I don’t know about that.”

“I do. Just get it out there. You’re probably confusing the poor bastard and it’ll feel better for both of you to have the title or at least know where you status to one another stands.”

“Yeah, that’s just the thing. I know he wants more.”

“You say that like it’s a problem.”

“It is. Sort of.”

“Edward. Ask. If he wants what you say he does, then you better agree to at least give it a trail run. You’re happy with him, brother. You owe yourself that much.”

A pregnant pause passed long enough to make Al think the call dropped.

“Fine.”

He grinned. Winry giggled beside him. “Good. So, when can I expect you to invite this strapping young man over for dinner? I’ve got a duck recipe I’ve been dying to break out for a special occasion.”

“Oh shut u-” his voice dropped in the way that only meant trouble, and Alphonse’s blood ran cold, “Shit. I got to go.”

“Ed-”

The was the ruffling of Ed pocketing his phone. Alphonse was not sure if he meant for the call to still run, but he held his breath as he overheard the scene.

“Well, well. Pipsqueak, so strange to run into you here. Well, not so strange actually since I tracked you here.”

“What are you doing here, Envy? Last I heard you pissed off to Paris to sling cocaine or something.”

“It was heroin, fuck you, and I’m back on business from our old buddy, Father.”

“I left that, you and him can go fuck off.”

“Ah, but we can’t. You see, when you set the fucking factory on fire, you lost us a lot of product. Product that you never had the chance to pay us back for before you evaporated. Which by the way, good job at that, you really know how to fly under the radar and make it good for yourself.” There was some silence then he heard Edward inhale sharply, “But, I doubt you have enough to pay us back, it’s about a million. And normally, I’d do you a solid since you did me solid or two way back when and pretend I didn’t see your pretty face linked to some billionare bastard.” A laugh, “But, how can I resist when it’s so fucking easy right?”

A loud abrupt scraping of chairs ripped the air, Alphonse bolted up in bed, “Whoa! You can’t have guns in here!”

“Oh, fuck off!” the voice of Envy snapped, “Call down your boy toy, Fullmetal.”

“I don’t go by that any-”

“Cut the crap! If you weren’t about to get caught you’d still be the Fullmetal I got to know so comfortably. You’re good deep down; I get that, sort of, not really. But I get that you do want your slate cleaned. You want to go fuck off and play Barbie and Ken in this dream house right?”

The soft ding of elevator doors parting cut off Envy’s rant that immediately transitioned into gross laughter. “Oh this is rich! Here he is!”

Rough shuffling, the cocking of a gun, Edward crying out and Roy snapping, “Don’t shoot, Riza!” 

Envy cackled, “Ah, this was a little too easy. Yo, door hop, lock us in, or you lose cognitive functioning for good. There ya go. Thanks.” Alphonse could barely stand to continue to listen in as he bolted out of bed and made a beeline to the door. He didn’t care how he got to Roy Mustang’s high-rise building; he was hell-bent to get there. 

“Alright, Mustang, is it? This little shit right here, how much does he mean to you?”

“What do you-”

“And by how much I literally mean how much, because I’m going to need you to bargain a nice sum with me if he means enough to you to pay for his life.”

And that’s how Alphonse Elric almost got hit by a taxi one morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama
> 
> Being Alphonse and Roy is suffering.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for sticking around, I know this thing has taken a weird turn, but I'm one of those writers that has an idea for a thing and the thing is just sort of 'lol nope, this is how it's going to go my typewriting monkey'.
> 
> Also thanks for your kind words with my life shit, I now have job and things are looking better. I have more motivation to focus on writing more often now which is fucking great, I haven't had this much energy for writing in so long <3

The lobby to his high-rise apartment building was always a quaint, private clean place. It had dark grey walls, charmed lighting and sharp decorations that were made to make anyone feel lavish, expensive and slightly unwanted. All the times he had passed through it he had never given it much thought. All those times he had been in a hurry or lost in his own thoughts to really pay it much attention. Maybe he’d bid the door hop a good morning; evening, whatever time of the day it was and that would be it. Sometimes the lobby manager would be there. Other times the leasing office would be buzzing with a prospective future resident. But all of those times he had never given that space of his home much attention. 

Now that was opposite of what it once was. Everything about this tiny, overly expensive lobby is amplified in some vain attempt to memorize all of it quickly as if to recount it if a cap is launched in Edward Elric’s skull. The smell of the hidden popery is too strong, the walls are too weird a shade of grey, the gold accents are too brassy for his tastes, the marble floors are too white and the furniture is gaudy. 

Beside him, Riza, she is too intense, her eyes are too focused and the gun in her hands is too real. It is aimed at the individual holding the man Roy’s been infatuated with for the past few months by the head of his hair. Edward’s head is forced back to expose his neck that is still littered with hickies from their night together, his jaw is too pronounced and the skin showing off the outlines of tendons and veins is too delicate. The barrel of the gun is dug right under his jaw, one movement with one finger could end his life and that blazing golden light would be extinguished and Roy couldn’t fathom how he would react. 

The individual that held the other gun is impossibly gangly with incredibly pale skin, glittering dark eyes and impossibly long black hair. Roy honestly can’t fully tell the person’s gender, but from the sound of their voice he guesses they are male. He meets the gunman’s gaze seeing nothing glaring back at him but someone who seemed to be certifiably insane but highly functioning. 

Holding a hand up he takes a cautious step forward, “Hey, lower the gun, let’s-”

The gunman’s finger twitched on the trigger and Roy swore he felt all the blood leave his body, “Hey.” The gunman snarled, “Lower the attitude, shut the fuck up unless I’m talking to you.” He smirks as he sizes Edward up, tracing the barrel down his neck, tapping it on one of the hickies, “You seem to like the pipsqueak okay. Let’s start the bidding at…oh what’s a good number…one million? A bit cliché, but it’s the lower end of what he owes us for wasting good product.”

“I didn’t destroy that mu-”

The gunman wrenches Ed’s head back farther, giving his hair a painful tug, “Shut up. The adults are talking.” His eyes switch back to Roy, “So, Mustang. One million. Do I hear one million?”

It was a rather steep price to anyone overhearing, but Roy’s monthly expenses on clothing was five times that some months. He nods as Riza flashes him a warning glare, “One million. I can do that.”

“Good.” The gunman nearly purrs as he winds Edward’s hair around in his fingers, “I’m metaphorically bidding on the pleasure of permanently blasting this fucker’s lights out. So I’d pay one point five million.”

“Two million.”

A laugh, “Three million.”

“Five million.”

His eyes widen as he immediately lights up at the thought of such a large sum, “Damn it, Mustang! You’re taking out all of the fun in this! Let’s see how deep your pockets really are. Seven million.”

“Roy, stop.” Edward snaps as he attempts to get out of the gunman’s grasp but is abruptly backhanded with the butt of the gun. 

Riza tenses and tightens her hold on her own weapon. Roy fights the urge to storm up to the armed man and kick him across the North American continent. Ed gasps in pain.

“Well, since we have damaged goods, six million.”

“Ten million.” Roy declares, “I can give you ten million right now, that’s the max amount I can take out of my account in one day unless otherwise authorized by my bank and a long line of financial advisors. And I’m sure you don’t want to hassle with that. Ten million should cover whatever the fuck he owes you, plus the cost of his life and the difference you can keep for yourself. It’s a very comfortable amount of money.”

“You can give more than that.” The gunman smiles, “Your rich fuckers carry cash, I know you do. I want the ten plus whatever’s in your safe. And I’ll give you your fuck toy back.”

Money makes people into such ugly things. 

“Fine. I accept your conditions only under the agreement that this is the final total. You will get ten million written given to you in the form of a personal check as well as the emergency money I have in my safe. That will total in about twelve million. In exchange you will release Edward, take the money and leave. Do we have a deal?”

The gunman nods, he slowly stands up, enjoying how tightly he pulls Ed’s hair to force him to his feet, “Agreed. But I do have one addition. Your guard dog stays down here. I don’t like guns.”

Riza shoots Roy a warning glance, trepidation lining her expression, “Roy, that’s not-”

“I can handle myself.” He assures her then turns back to the gunman, “Very well. But wouldn’t it be fair to have you leave your weapon as well?”

The gunman scoffs, “That’s now how a holdup works, but nice try.”

Roy and Riza exchange expressions that could closest be described as farewells as she reluctantly steps back, watching in a silent seething as the gunman shoves Ed in front of him. Within a few moments all three are in the elevator and the correct floor is pressed. They stand in the tight quarters with the gunman and the captive on the left, the guarantor on the right. The usual instrumental music plays as casually as it has every day preceding this one. Today it sounds like Mozart, but Roy has never cared enough to memorize the composers, usually he never paid much attention to the music coming out of the elevators. He and Ed pass reluctant sidelong glances at one another, the angry bruising on the blond’s face wounds Roy and he wonders if he has any plastic bags to fill with ice once this trauma is over. 

The soft ding sounds and the doors part. The gunman nods to the exit and Roy leaves first, guiding them to his apartment. His key feels heavy in his hand as he unlocks the door. Everything seems too quiet as he enters the apartment, greeted by the wide, open space. Untouched coffee and donuts remain on the counter leaving Roy to wonder how differently this morning could have gone. 

Where one to enter the study of Roy Mustang they would be greeted by immaculate hardwood floors, grey walls, a full wall of books and a large dark brown wood desk. On the wall his diplomas, certifications and military regalia are on display. The wall behind the desk is floor to ceiling windows; the only other set of such windows can be found in the living room. Gazing into the office one would see no other door except the one in which one would enter. They would not think to go behind the desk, open the middle drawer, lift the false bottom to the said drawer and press a button that would unlock the far right bookcase. This would allow them to go to said bookcase and pull it a few inches away from the wall and open it to reveal a small entryway to a private room. Walking into the entryway there would be another door with a lock, the owner to the apartment has the key and unlocks it to reveal a safe room with a safe embedded into the wall and a few filing cabinets and an emergency phone. 

The gunman gazes around, speechless at the intricacy of it all, “Do all of you rich bastards have one of these?”

Roy shrugs as he unlocks the safe, greeted by a few family heirlooms, a few personal sentiments from childhood and the neatly stacked envelopes stuffed with hundred dollar bills. He takes all of the envelopes then shuts the safe. “The checkbook is in the study. I’ll write the check and count out the cash for you.”

The gunman smiles, “Very well.” 

Sitting behind the desk, Roy produces the bill counter and clicks it on then clicks open a pen to write the ten million dollar check. All is filled out but the name of who the check is made out to. He points to the line with his pen, “What’s your name?”

The gunman shakes his head, “Leave it blank, I’ll fill it out myself.”

“Very well.” He passes the check and it’s promptly pocketed. 

All is left is the cash. There are ten envelopes that in the end total out to two million just as Roy predicted. In the safe was an emergency checkbook and most of Roy’s true emergency cash was in a vault at the bank. Sealing the envelopes again he puts them into a box that once held his stationary and holds them to the gunman, “Take the gun off Edward and I’ll hand these to you.”

The gunman sighs, roughly shoving the barrel into Edward’s jaw one last time, “It’s been fun, Pipsqueak.”

Ed looks like he might punch the gunman in the face as the gunman takes the gun off him. The gunman pushes Ed into the desk and holds out his hand for the remainder of the ransom, which is then handed over. Peering into the box the gunman gleams at the amount of envelopes glowing back at him, “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Mustang.”

“Get out of my home.”

“Of course.” He grins widely, wickedly, “But one last thing.” He abruptly shoves the barrel into Edward’s right shoulder, “Thanks for leaving me to die in that fucking factory fire, you insect.”

Those words sink into Roy hard and he moves forward to try to stop the man from pulling the trigger but as he hears Edward scream out in pain it is clear he’s too late. The gunman’s expression lights up at the sight of the blood spilling on the wood desk, he perks up at the sounds of agony as Ed tightly grips his shoulder crying out through grit teeth.

“You bastard!” Roy shouts, fire rages in his eyes as he lunges across the desk at the man. Somehow he manages to grip him by the throat and knock him to the floor.

Keeping him pinned there he delivers a ruthless punch to the face then another. The gunman coughs up bloodied spit as the chilling hardness of the barrel resting against Roy’s abdomen reminds him who is in charge. The relaxed eyes of a maniac bear into the billionaire as he lies on the floor as if he were there to take a nap. A gentle click of the gun being cocked breaks the silence, from the desk Edward lets out a pathetic gasp, “Roy. Stop.”

“Now.” The gunman practically yawns, “The way I see it you have one of two options. One: apologize. Two: get shot.”

Glowering, Roy roughly stands up, his hands tightly curled at his sides as he shakes from anger and the overwhelming need to beat the man nonchalantly rising to his feet and collecting the box of two million dollars off he floor. The gunman gives Ed a casual nod then winks at Roy as he saunters out of the room. 

Hearing the front door shut Roy takes that as cue that they’re safe and immediately rushes to the man doubled over his desk. Edward still tightly holds his shoulder and breathes through grit teeth. Gently, Roy wraps his arms around the other, holding on tight as he guides Edward to lie down on the floor and begins to tear off his shirt into strips to form a makeshift tourniquet. 

“Edward, how are you right now?”

“How do you think I am?” he gasps.

“Just keep breathing through it, good, like that. Focus on breathing. Keep your eyes open so I know your conscious.” 

He nods as he swallows thickly; wincing as Roy starts to carefully maneuver the strips of his shirt underneath him to make the bandage. A series of ragged inhales sputters from the blond as the cloth is further slid underneath him. His eyes squeeze tight as Roy works as quickly as he can as the shirt strips are tightly tied and Roy returns to applying pressure to the wound. 

Blood pounding in his ears he stares down at the man on his floor, hating the sight of his blond hair in a messy halo around his head as the puddle of red begins to gradually get larger. Part of him wants to cry, part of him wants to punch the wall, a desk, anything. Mostly he wants to use the gunman as a personal punching bag. But then there is his lover, his friend, his something, he isn’t sure what they are but he knows he’d like them to be something more especially having to experience the indescribable trepidation of believing he may lose him at any moment. His hands tremble, as he holds onto him tighter. He wants to stroke his hair, touch his cheek, and show that he cares, but he is also too locked in fear to find out what may happen if he moves his hands from the pressure on Edward’s shoulder. 

“Edward. I-”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me.”

He laughs, it sounds more like pained gurgling, “I’m not dying here, asshole, or at all. Got it? So…just shut up.”

So much of him hated that those damning words brought a smile to Roy’s lips, but he loved that the other man’s crass demeanor came off as endearing to him, even as he was bleeding out on the hardwood. “Alright. I’ll shut up, so long as you promise not to die.”

“I don’t do promises.”

“Bets?” 

“I’ve done too many of those. Got me here.”

He sighs.

“…but maybe promises might not be as bad as I think.”

He smirks.

“So, yeah. I guess I’ll play into your corny game and agree to not die.”

“An agreement isn’t a promise.”

“An agreement is a more adult way to make a promise.” 

“That’s true.”

Edward is beginning to feel cold. Roy is getting at the end of his patience for emergency personnel. He debates the best way to leave Edward here to go get Riza, or the concierge or some stranger off the street, anyone to help. Perhaps if he uses paperweights from his desk they could provide enough pressure to substitute for his hands. Or they could just make matters worse.

“Ed-”

As if they were running on some sort of sick schedule, the men in question burst though, led by Riza and a younger blond man Roy could only immediately identify as Edward’s brother. Time stops for Roy as they begin to shout medical terms and indications to one another. Two men hold back with a stretcher as the others of the team swarm Roy and Ed. One woman kneels beside Roy and places firm hands on his shoulders as she guides him away from the wounded as another medic replaces Roy’s hands and shouts the status of Edward’s condition. Another medic effortlessly slides a cuff on Ed’s bicep; the other hurriedly patches up his wound as they carefully transfer him to the stretcher. Edward’s brother grits his teeth in suppressed anger as Riza impulsively grips his upper arm to hold him back as the medics ceremoniously lift the man in the stretcher up. 

He rises into the air with a strange, newfound pariah-ship that brands him as a new heartthrob for those watching him lose consciousness as his blood stains the gurney as he’s placed on it and wheeled out of the room. The medical crew has to gently maneuver around a grief-stricken younger Elric brother as his older and only sibling is taken out of the room. 

Once Edward is out of the room the younger sibling breaks down, as if a switch was destroyed before them. A bloodcurdling scream raggedly tears from his throat as he crumples between Riza’s shaking hands as he pounds on the floor, his body furiously trembling as he jaggedly claims deep drags of oxygen in a vain attempt to keep himself stable. 

Unsure of how to handle the ordeal, Roy approaches him with one hand offered as if to try to coax or calm a feral animal. Arriving to his side he kneels beside him, opting not to touch him and speaks in a soft tone, “…hey. I know this looks confusing and awful but-”

“You.” He snarls, his head whipping up, the sight before Roy startles him. The boy’s hazel eyes are alight with bloodlust, a fury he has never seen on another man in his lifetime, “You are why this happened. You are why he was shot. You. Are. To. Blame. I. Warned you. I fucking. Warned. You.”

“Listen to me closely, listen to me carefully.” Roy forces his voice to not raise, knowing more anger will not help the situation, “I don’t know what I am to Edward, but to me he means much more than the multimillion tab I just had to pay for his life.”

The brother’s expression crashes in astonishment. 

“I will not stand here and let you point fingers at me for the reason of his condition. I did everything I could to stop it. It suddenly happened. I came downstairs to speak with him after a slight miscommunication and he had a gun to his head. I was no more apart of how the bullet found its way into him than you were.” He wets his lips and moves a bit closer, “And it’s not my place to say how it got there. That’s a question for Edward.”

The brother’s head nods in understanding as his eyes glaze over in thought. As he connects the pieces the light returns to his eyes as a wretched grin starts to crease his face. From his lips a boiling laughter starts to bubble out. It starts as a strange hiccup but then rises to a giggling, laughter, cackling and then sounds Roy isn’t sure are human. The brother shakes his head as he pushes hair from his forehead. “The drug dealing right? Right?! Yeah, I know. I knew. He’s not as smooth as he thinks he is. How else did he set his upper right half of his body on fire? ‘Warehouse fire, Al, wrong place in the wrong time, I’m sorry.’ Oh, my brother, as intelligent as he is, he’s a fool, he’s a fool, he’s a fool, he’s a goddamn fool and I’ll be damned if that fool has got himself killed for good this time.” The laughter sputters into crying again as he deflates, “I’m damned because of that fool.”

They are all damned because of that fool, and that fool is the most damned of them all as his red is absorbed by the sterile white of the wailing ambulance of the upper east side.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter that serves as a breather if anything for what's to come. 
> 
> I'm low key annoyed at how long this story is turning out to be, but high key so happy you guys seem to like it so much! :) 
> 
> Enjoy and thank you for reading!!

Not that he had ever given it much thought, but when confronted with the problem of having someone who he had been seeing on the ‘down low’ be shot in his home, the press were not overly willing participants that Roy had ever taken into account. 

Yes, he has a lot of money, yes he technically fits the bill for why a wiry photographer would run and stalk his every move to sell to any paying tabloid and yes, he does have a slight public record for some scandal. However, this is not a scenario he ever could have foresaw nor did he ever imagine the human insects with their flashing lights would be eagerly buzzing outside of the hospital he was trying to plan how to enter. 

The EMTs would not let him go in the ambulance. Riza held him back and was reciting the logistical reasons as to why he should not go barreling into the ambulance after Edward. 

“You do not have a public record with dating or showing any interest in men. Especially men so young.”

That’s what she said when the EMTs gawked at the sheer amount of blood coming out of Edward, and guessing how much was left. 

“It’ll only make a bigger scene, this will already rock too many boats. Please, just stop and think.”

That’s what she said when the EMTs finally found a place for the IV.

“You’ve just inherited the business, you need to think not just about yourself, but the company, the employees, the reputation of the brokerage.”

That’s what she said when they got the oxygen hooked up and were shouting medical terminologies Roy didn’t understand nor did he like. 

“Think about Edward, there’s no room for you there. You need to handle yourself then handle him.”

That’s what she said when the ambulance pulled away.

Now he lingers outside of the hospital, furiously smoking a cigarette, his hand shakes as he stomps it out. It’s not as easy as just walking in, the place was swarmed, and even then that was an understatement. Perhaps this was his true tribulation on how serious he was about making this playful courtship more serious. After all, he was ready to tell that bleeding man that he loved him, he wanted to.

Riza’s words ricochet around in his head, she was right and she had many points for him to really think on. This was beyond him now that the business was fully his. He already sat through that awful lunch after all that happened. Some of the men offered their sincere apologies and wishes of health for ‘the young man’ in ‘his office’, while Bradley had resolution and destitution of his passing the torch all over his face. 

“Not even a few hours and you…”

“This has been going on for about two months.” Roy had snapped, not in the mood to be parented through another lecture.

“Which one? Hooking up with an ex-drug chef or hooking up with young men?”

That’s when he reached to his past forgotten security blanket, the cigarette, “How’d you know about the drugs.”

“Everyone who lives in the margins of our line of business knew what the hell Philosopher’s Stone was. Only a select few knew who it was. Which wasn’t a huge surprise to me at the time, I knew the boy’s father. He asked me to do what I could to ensure the boy got out of that life.” Bradley was next to ease his nerves in the form of a cigar, “So I set the damned place ablaze. Tragic that he got pretty scarred up because of it, but I made sure the medical bills were covered and that most links were taken care of.” He blew out a lungful of toxins, “At least I thought they were.”

Roy was floored. Totally and completely immobilized at the sheer unlikeliness, no, improbability of this all somehow tying back to all he knew and who he was trying to know, “You know him?” he choked out. 

“I knew Van Hohenheim, his father. He helped me develop the relationship with the Chinese market. I owe a lot to him, as does this company.” He chuckled, “I thought kicking one kid out of a drug high would be easy enough. I was wrong. And now here he is back in my hair.”

Bradley’s eyes tiredly stabbed into Roy’s, “Listen to me when I say, that boy is incredible. So much so that his potential and what he’s already accomplished is unmatched. Men like him die young because they can achieve too much good that the world wants to refuse can actually be obtained. I wouldn’t get too close.”

“Why.” Roy nearly spat. 

“He and his brother are very close to developing a cure to leukemia, and a lot of people would literally kill them for that solution. And a lot of people would kill them for simply developing that solution.” He snuffed out the cigar, “You know how this world works, Mustang, I don’t need to spell it out for you.”

That conversation haunted him to now, even though it only happened hours ago. Perhaps the drugs were a cover-up excuse for the gunman, maybe this was really about Edward’s research. But that is not his priority, his priority is Edward and figuring out a way into that hospital without causing too much of a fuss. There are so many ways to try to go about this, but in all honesty, he could see Edward getting pissed about Roy sneaking in, and he could see him getting even more pissed about Roy just walking in. However, either way he slices it, the scandal is already snowballing as they speak, so there seems no right way to go about anything. 

This is too complicated too fast. His head hurts from it all, his heart hurts more that he wasn’t in there already. Audibly groaning in exasperation he massages his face as his phone buzzes off. He massages the bridge of his nose as he speaks, “Yes?”

“I can see you from the car. I’m in the Lexus, black.”

Looking around he finds the car in question, and there she sits in the driver’s seat, her blond hair gleaming behind thick glass. He smirks as he approaches the car, still talking to her as he walks. He likes those sunglasses on her, a pointy, sexy look he doesn’t see too often. “What are you doing spying on me, Riza?”

“Oh you know, ex-sniper working as a secretary, not a good method of protection for you after recent events.” She lifts the sunglasses on top of her head, “I was thinking on this predicament for your public image. How serious are you about him?”

“Edward?”

“No, Bradley.” She rolls her eyes, “If you’re serious, we can play your romance up to the media, we can make an actual relationship work in our favor as opposed to an affair. We can also use this to wipe clean your playboy reputation.”

“Ah, so this wasn’t a consolation because you care.” 

“Of course.” she procures a bouquet from the backseat and gently shoves it into his hands, “Come here.” She beckons him, the moment he leans forward she begins to style his hair in a more tasteful manner, “Alright, you’re more presentable. Just go through the front, just walk, do nothing more than that let the cameras make their own assumptions. We’ll work with that the headlines give us.”

The flowers are roses, cheesy yet they have an endearing classicism to them, they remind Roy of Edward’s dirty coat, “Thank you.”

“Good luck.” She warns as the driver’s window slides up and Roy turns to face the postponed battle, the press and the hospital. 

The world around dissolves into a thickening water, that makes every step heavier, yet somehow Roy feels a strange sense of immunity for his body cuts through the congealing atmosphere with a false ease. Roses are like lead in his hand and his heartbeat grows faster as the congregation notices his approach, first one set of eyes then the trickling of noise maneuvers through the crowd. 

Living in a public eye nearly all his life to some degree, he is somewhat seasoned for this, however not as seasoned as he wished. Digital cameras pop in his face, people shout questions and demands while hospital staff behind the doors scramble to unlock the doors for his entry.

“Roses! Who are they for?!”

“Flowers for Edward Elric?! How sweet of you, Roy Mustang, tell us, why a nobody scientist?!”

“Is smart really the new sexy?!”

“Do you know who the shooter is?!”

“Are you hurt too?!”

“Are you gay?!”

“Roy! Roy over here!”

“Just answer one question for me!”

“Are you paying for Elric’s medical care?!”

“Are you and Elric a couple?”

“Sources say your last hookup was with the oldest Bates daughter, do you still talk?!”

“How did the gunman get in?!”

“Mr. Mustang, welcome, this way please.” A receptionist smiles as he warmly wraps a hand around Roy’s shoulder to pull him into the lobby.

Another receptionist locks the door; the clicking of human pests rattles the room. The receptionist gestures to the elevators across the lobby, a police officer stationed outside, “Ms. Hawkeye called ahead for you. We haven’t informed Edward yet, he’s not yet conscious.”

They walk to the elevator.

“Not conscious? Why not?” 

“Mr. Elric was shot point blank in the shoulder blade, the doctor can explain it in more detail, but we have been cleared to inform you that he was in the operating room for over twelve hours to get everything under control.”

The button for floor twenty-four is hit.

“But is he alright?”

“He’s stable. But it will be a lot of physical therapy and further surgeries to fix all that’s been done to his shoulder.”

“How much damage is there?” his heart sinks faster, Edward seemed fairly okay, as okay someone could be after being shot, in his study yesterday. 

“Quite a bit. But he’s holding in there quite well.”

The doors part, and the journey to the hospital room comes to a close as the receptionist gives a gentle knock then peeks inside. He gives an affirmative nod to Roy and lowers his tone to a whisper, “He’s asleep, but you’re welcome to come in.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to expect in visiting Edward in the hospital, but the sight before him was something he was not prepared for. On the bed lies a ghost of the golden light that had slammed inside his life. Edward’s arm lay across his stomach in a sling, he has only hospital pants on with his torso thoroughly bandaged. His amber eyes are closed in sleep and his mouth slightly agape. Long blond locks run free around his face and an oxygen tube is hooked around his ears and secured under his chin. Once sun kissed skin that radiated with a bronzed undertone is now pale and dull. 

Rough would be a kind way to describe how Edward Elric appears in that lame hospital bed surrounded by a halo of machines and tubes. Despite it all Roy still found him beautiful. 

Stopping at the right side of the bed, Roy carefully places the roses amongst the small shrine that had been build on the nightstand. A plethora of flowers, get well cards, balloons and academic awards that Edward had won in the past are gathered to celebrate a better time. Roy carefully adds his tribute to the accumulation then surveys Ed closer. 

Reaching out, he holds Edward’s face as carefully as he can manage, needing some confirmation that he’s there, the simplest touch. The skin under his fingers feel slightly greasy and unkempt, to be figured given the circumstances, but Roy still doesn’t mind so long as Ed is still okay. He stares at him long and hard, memorizing the look of his face when he’s completely surrendered like this and those feelings dwell up in him like they did that night at Hughes’ home, like they did holding Edward in his arms as he bled out on the floor. Those same indescribable thoughts and dedications rage on to the point that he didn’t even hear himself when he said, “I love you.”

No response. Roy did not expect one for he did not expect to say those three damning words. A smile cracks his lips as he strokes Edward’s cheek as delicately as possible, “I love you, Edward.” 

He laughs. Of course this is how he would say it for the first time, when the other person is unconscious off pain medications and sedations.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hohenheim and tits. That's all that happens here.

Edward didn’t wake up all day. Roy sat there all day and nothing happened. He scrolled through his phone, replied to emails and was the most productive he’s been in weeks as he sat beside Ed’s unmoving body. The nurses passed in and out to check on him, doctor his bandages and switch out his IV fluids. He made small talk with them, phone calls and a really bad coffee in the break area.

It wasn’t until seven that he realized how long he had been in there when Riza came in with a to-go order and a large bottle of water which he happily devoured. 

They left together to the parade of photographer’s lights and berating chatter. 

They went back to her place. They wouldn’t look for him there.

The door shuts with a heavy sentence of solace. Riza carefully removes the bobby pins from her up do as Roy throws an arm into the fridge, retracts a beer and sits on the floor. He downs it in a matter of seconds as Riza watches through her peripheral in slight disgust. “I know it’s been a long day, sir, but please don’t overdo it.”

“It’s only been on beer.”

“In less than a minute.”

“Its all I needed.”

She smirks as she toys with the pins resting in her hand, “I’m going to shower, think you can handle the deliver man?”

“Only if you got cash lying around here somewhere. My accountants are going nuts over the bidding war over Edward’s life.”

“Last drawer on the left by the fridge, it’s in a Ziploc baggie. Should have a few twenties for you to use.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

And just like that, in Classic Riza Hawkeye Fashion she was gone, leaving him with nothing but a Ziploc baggie hunt and the soft crescendo of shower water. Keeping to his word, he digs out a bottle of water and begins to nurse that as he goes through her fridge, helping himself to some cured ham. With the ham on the counter, he continues to pick at it with one hand and paw through the drawers with another. 

Hospitals are draining; he mentally salutes all staff and dedicated medical personnel before taking another swig of water. He needs the smallest things to distract himself from today to get some form of a mental break. While he’d rather be lounging on the couch with another bottle in hand and some mindless program on, scavenging for the Ziploc bag and waiting on shitty Chinese takeout is all he’s got.

The baggie was rudely shoved up inside an old bottle of paprika and somehow smells of cumin. Roy dumps it out and begins to count out its content as a knock sounds from the door. Pocketing two twenties and a five, he pulls back the door to not Chinese delivery but a rather voluptuous woman with incredible long black hair that fell in impossibly tangled waves around her face and body. Her hair alone is something that the greatest minds of literature would love to pour page over page in describing, it’s thick and kinky but relaxed enough to be wavy and plentiful enough that she could easily make herself modest if she were naked. That hair caresses her ample breasts, which test the durability of a tight black turtleneck, the hair also, dances past her tiny waist and down to copious hips contained inside equally, if not tighter black jeans. 

Dark eyes bear into his as she re-crosses her arms and sinks onto a hip, “What are you?”

Damn, her voice is just as tantalizing as her. If Edward were here, he’d surely backhand Roy for blatantly staring. He awkwardly clears his throat, “Ah, well, I see we haven’t met. Surely I’d remember a one night stand as…” god her breasts are huge, “…lovely as you.”

“Clearly you’re too distractible.” She rolls her eyes, “So I’ll make this simple for your man-brain. Where’s Riza?”

As if the woman could see it, Roy points to where the shower is, “Showering.”

“I see she forgot.” The woman seems disappointed; she only shows it in slightly lowered shoulders and less sparkly eyes, “Well. Tell her I stopped by.”

“You’re welcome to stay. If you’d like.”

She doesn’t even bother with the once overs Roy gets before rejection, “No.”

“Any other part of that message or just that you’ve been here?” he asks, part of him desperate to learn more about the woman, another part just liking to look at her, “I mean, couldn’t you just text or-”

The glower she issues to him instantly silences him. A hand rises in a point as she aims a finger at him, one long matte black fingernail, long enough to piece his eyes out if she wanted. “Tell her I stopped by. That’s all. Anything beyond that is none of your business as far as I’m concerned, even if Riza makes it your business. Understand?”

He’s speechless; no one’s ever spoken like that to him.

“Men.” She mutters as she turns on her heel to stalk off. 

Roy slowly shuts the door, dumbfounded at what just unfolded before him. He rubs a hand over his jawline, feeling the beginnings of stubble that would surely need to be shaved tonight. Not that he has been overly involved with Riza’s personal life, but he for the most part knew what company she kept, and that woman did not fit the company whatsoever. 

The woman in question quietly pads out of the hallway leading to the bedroom. Her blond hair lays flat to her head, combed back and clinging to her neck and exposed shoulders due to her wearing a tank top and sweatpants. It’s been since Europe that he’s seen her dressed this casually. Part of it warmed him, part of it stabs him with a bad sense of nostalgia, causing him to wonder if him being in her home confused her emotions. Perhaps not, if she were uncomfortable with him he wouldn’t be here and she wouldn’t be so gracious as to show this much and trust him not to be weird about it. 

“I heard the door.” Her eyes search his hands, “Where’s the food?”

“Ummm…angry and probably out of the building.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t the food, it was some chick?”

Her face falls. 

“She was really gorgeous, a friend of yours? I mean gorgeous in a subjective way in that she’s hot, but I’m not interested, you know, Edward, she’s just got…stuff.” He exhales and roughly massages his forehead, closing his eyes to do so. 

He feels her hands cover his, they’re hotter than his are from the shower. Pulling his hands away she gives him a small smile, “Are you okay?”

“Just tired.”

“I can tell.” She gives his hands a squeeze then departs to the kitchen, “And you can just say it, Roy, she’s got huge tits.”

What sort of alternate reality was Roy Mustang living in where Riza Hawkeye, Riza I’ll Slap You If You Look At My Butt In That Pencil Skirt Too Long Roy Mustang Hawkeye, said that a woman has huge tits like a man would. Not even a man, like a man Edward’s age, maybe younger, who knew what the kids are up to these days. 

“Tits?” is all he can muster as he leans against the kitchen island, “Did you just-?”

She shrugs behind a drink of water, “Breasts? Boobs? Pick your word I guess. May as well have it all laid out since she showed up.” 

“What?”

Her brows raise, “She didn’t just tell you?” 

“Tell me what?!” frustration begins to dwell inside him, “Who the hell is she?”

“I don’t know her name.” Riza confesses, “She goes by Lust at the club I frequent on Thursday evenings, or I used to frequent until we became exclusive as far as sex is concerned.”

It took all of his willpower not to openly drop his jaw like some cartoon caricature, “Sex. You have sex with-” 

“Women, yes, when it suits me, yes. I thought I told you this.”

“No!”

Her lips flat line, “Oh.” A long sip of water, “Well. Yes, I like women.”

“I thought you were in love with me, or were, or…”

“I’m not childish enough to have gambled my sex or romantic life on the small chance that you and I would actually work out how I’d like. I also value our friendship above a relationship. And I also have needs, fulfillments. Most relationships never worked out, so sexual ones were enough to bide my time between work and personal matters.”

He understood that, Riza was a machine in the workplace.

“So I found some lovers in the club, I was her customer for a few sessions, but something’s begun to build. I don’t know what, but after you and I had our discussion before the incident with Edward…she messaged me that she needed to talk.”

“She seemed pretty annoyed I answered the door and not you.”

Riza laughs, “I imagine she would be. This is the second time I’d accidentally stood her up. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be able to take a half day tomorrow to sort things out.”

“Of course.”

Silence. Comfortable silence, but silence nonetheless. 

“Things seem more complicated for you these days, Riza.”

A shrug, “With knowing that we’ll never be, I feel like they’re getting more and more simple, actually.”

Relief. 

“I’m happy to hear that.”

An exchanged smile.

“So…what do you mean by sessions?”

As if on cue a knock at the door sounds, they both jump, Riza blushes as she saunters to it. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

And with that she opens it to reveal not the seductress from before, but the much-anticipated Chinese delivery.

\---

He looks uncomfortable, but Roy is in no place to be his usual compliantly insistent self today. Yes, there still stands the wall of flashing human insects salivating for an inkling of a shot of Roy beside the ‘Nobody Scientist’, but they can’t hear him and they can’t see him right now. When arriving to the hospital he had only gotten so far as into the building before he was told that he couldn’t see Edward. Rage flared in Roy then fizzled out into diplomacy, a trait Bradley had near literally beat into Roy his entire life. 

“I understand that the family doesn’t wish me to be there, but if you send Alphonse down here to speak with me, I assure you this is all a bout of intense emotions.”

The hospital receptionist exhales as he fidgets with his pen, “Its…its not put in place by Alphonse Elric. As Edward’s brother, he does not have that sort of power.”

“Then who is it?” Roy nearly snaps.

“His father.”

Fuck.

“Then please send Van Hohenheim down to speak with me. From what I have heard from Edward, that man has even lesser power to say so than Alphonse does.”

“I can request Mr. Hohenheim come down, but it is up to him on if he wishes to. Otherwise you are not permitted.” 

He nods and promptly leaves. Emitting a groan of frustration Roy flips out his phone and sends an update to Riza on this current predicament. Part of him wonders if Bradley has something to do with this, after all, it’s through him that he even knows of Edward. It’s because of Bradley that Edward’s right arm is marred with severe burn scars. Granted, it was to shove Edward out of that life, but it came at a price and Roy knows Bradley doesn’t know how much Edward paid to leave those sins behind. 

Riza texts back an apology of the predicament then informs him that she’ll be around later after she settles things with Lust. He can’t help but suppress a snicker at that name. The memory of that woman’s face flashes through his mind. She is indescribably attractive, and she lies beneath Riza at her mercy at their scheduled ‘sessions’ each week. It was refreshing getting to sit next to her on her couch and just talk again. They both know that there’s still time needed to heal what we resolved up in his apartment, but they also know that whatever the relationship status, they can’t live without each other. 

Sending out a reply that he appreciates her support and that he’d send her an update on if he got up on the room, he then pockets the phone. Looking around he sees the hospital worker standing beside a large blond man with a full deep golden beard and rounded glasses that seem too small for his large, sharp face. The man who Roy can only assume is Van Hohenheim, adjusts his glasses and nods to him, “You must be Roy Mustang, the man who is the cause of my son being here in the first place. A pleasure to meet you.”

His curtness was clearly inherited by Edward, but this man was more or less an older, less kept version of Ed. They share the same ridiculously blond hair and complexion, even the way they stand is similar, and however, this man is if Edward grew up in a more ridged environment. There is coldness and isolation to him that Roy can’t quite pinpoint. They both have this brooding inside them but there’s radiance to them that’s been built up from life experiences.

Roy also can’t even fathom what the father to a man like Edward Elric must think being face to face to a billionare who’s had hypothetical affair headlines plastered all over every newspaper in New York City and god knows where else. 

He opts to extend a hand as he takes a few steps towards him, “Indeed, that would be me. The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Hohenheim, do excuse the events leading up to your son’s hospitalization, they are more complicated than you can know.”

Hohenheim has an incredible grip to where Roy briefly worries if his hand may break, “I’m well aware of what events got Edward here. You need not charm me to believe a different story.” 

“I’m simply trying to smooth out any bumps in a story.”

“The story is quite simple. You gave him too much attention, and the favor I called in to my friend, I imagine you know him quite well, Bradley, has gone to waste.”

“He regrets his choices and has atoned for his actions. It is the fault of those who still remain that he’s here, not of what he or I or anyone else did.”

“I disagree.” He frowns deeply, “You cannot imagine where I come from in this situation so I’ll spare explaining the trials of parenthood to you. However, I will make this much clear to you, you are to leave Edward and my family alone. I care not for the lifestyle you would bring to Edward, Alphonse or anyone else close to me or my family.”

“I mean them no harm.” Roy pushes, no way in hell will he back down, not to absentee asshole that has left Edward and his brother in financial and emotional strain for a large portion of their lives, “I mean only to support him and help him in anyway I can. I literally paid for his life, and I by no means have a right to it, but I believe that he has the right to make the choice on if he wants me with or near him. And that choice does not lie with the man who has been absent for a huge portion of his life.”

Hohenheim’s persona darkens at those words, “…I underestimated your closeness to my son. But his side of our relationship leaves a lot of…bumps in the story, as you put it. I have reasons as to why I cannot be around my family, but I do not have to explain them to you.”

“Then don’t explain. I have no intention to debate with someone I know next to nothing about. All I ask is that you see that there is something substantial between Edward and I and I ask that you respect that. That you allow me to at least see that he’s well, that I at least be able to speak with him when he’s awake. I would never intentionally do anything that would put him in any semblance of this pain.”

The tiredness in Hohenheim’s eyes lightens a bit. At the corners of his lips are the twitches of what may be the inclination of a smile. He sighs then laughs, roughly giving Roy’s shoulder a hearty slap, “Well done you charming bastard! What a test I put!” he chuckles and leans in close to Roy, “Neither of my boys has brought anyone home, or anything resembling such a thing! I wish I had my handgun on me, I bought it for just such an occasion!” he beams, he and his son have the same shit eating grin, “I had to be sure you weren’t as spoon-fed by Bradley as he lets on. Nice man, but such a snake in the grass and an asshole.” 

Hohenheim begins to walk to the elevator dragging Roy along with him under his arm, “Let me tell you about this one time he and my twin played this really awful prank on me. It seemed really fun until you realize that a standard condom can hold about one gallon’s worth of orange juice and dormitory beds didn’t have the protective plastic you kids are used to these days.”  
Of all the father’s of the lover’s Roy has had the displeasure of meeting, Van Hohenheim certainly is the worst he’s met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, first time end o the chapter notes!
> 
> So who here wants a Riza and Lust one shot? I saw a fan art of them together on Tumblr once and it never left my brain. I had to.
> 
> Also I love Hohenheim. So much. He's just a cool-uncle daddy-o that doesn't know how to dad.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's fucking long my dudes, consider it an apology for making all five of you wait. 
> 
> Welcome back to a casual affair that's getting not so casual.
> 
> I am sorry this took so long, I had surgery so hardcore drugs and writing don't mix too well for me, at least not this time around. Many thanks for all of you guys who have stuck around this long! 
> 
> As always comments, notes, pointers, etc are very helpful and appreciated!

It’s a surprise to see Edward awake when Roy enters the room behind Hohenheim. The sleeping beauty in question is stooped in an upright position with the blond girl from the gala behind him braiding his hair for him. His golden eyes fixate on his phone as his thumbs lazily glide over the screen then slowly draw up from the screen to land on his father. A scowl immediately mars his face as he grips the phone tightly.

“Hohenhei-”

“I bring a gift.” Hohenheim side-steps to reveal Roy and much to his pleasantries, Edward’s expression changes near immediately, “And please don’t throw anything again. I am paying your medical-”

“Like hell you are!” Edward snaps with a jabbed finger flicked at his father, “I’d rather Roy pay than you swoop in after years and years and pretend to play father for a hot sec. Do me a favor and fuck off. No one wants you here.”

Grumbling under his breath he recoils back into the blond girl behind him who finishes the braid and guides him back to lie on the bed. She pushes his long bangs off his face for a minute, “Ed. Calm down.”

He narrows his eyes in response as he clicks a button then exhales, “This things going to need to give me much stronger meds than this if fucking Hohenheim’s going to be in here.”

From the corner, Alphonse chuckles as he stands, “Brother please just rest. It’s not good for your blood pressure-”

“I’ll tell you what’s not good for my blood pressure!” Ed retaliates from behind an accusatory finger aimed at the most hated man in the room, “Get him out!” he abruptly reaches for a half consumed glass of juice and throws it at his father, “Out!”

The juice doesn’t go far but it may as well have hit its intended target. Hohenheim exchanges glances with Alphonse, “Very well. I’ll give you time with your guest.” He looks to Roy, “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Mustang.”

Roy nods, “As with you, sir.” 

Edward watches from behind a glower as his parent leaves, the moment the door closes his guard collapses. The medication was probably hitting him but Roy could see that having Hohenheim around genuinely was a problem for Ed. He wishes he could console him, or at least try to. 

However, to his left stood a slightly brooding Alphonse whose arms are tightly crossed with hazel-gold eyes narrowed in suspicion. Next to Edward the blond girl stands up to wipe her hands on the front of her jeans then meanders to Alphonse’s side. She wraps her hands around his bicep; this instantly relaxes him to the point of a gentle smile. He leans over to kiss her temple then sighs, “…aside from the obvious, why do you keep coming back here, Mr. Mustang?”

“Please, it’s Roy.”

Alphonse cuts a lazy side-eye to him, he may as well have gently poked his abdomen with a knife the look is so severe, “It’s Mr. Mustang. I don’t trust you.”

Edward groans from the hospital bed, “Al.” he nearly whines, “Stop.”

“What?!” Alphonse snaps, “You were shot in his home! He’s landed you and him in the middle of some brewing social media scandal since that gala. Plus I did my own looking into what kind of man he is and-”

“Al.” the blond girl murmurs, her thumb strokes his arm which takes him down a few notches, “There’s no point in dwelling in that. Just a few days ago you were encouraging a relationship between them and Roy’s been nothing but kind to Ed.” She peers over at Roy from behind Alphonse, “I assume you do care for him outside of whatever you two have been doing these past few months. You also weren’t the one who pulled the trigger.”

Flashes of the gunman behind Edward with that damned gun pressed into his skin run through Roy’s mind. The bang, the blood and watching Ed writhe then fall to the floor are all images he’s been distracting himself with meningeal tasks to try to forget. Heaviness weighs on him as he wets his lips trying not to laugh at the strangeness of this situation. Roy’s been standing before some of the most powerful people in New York and the United States for business meetings, negotiations and deals and never once felt this horrible clutch in his stomach. He’s never felt the heat of the scrutiny of people he hardly knows judging his every word and analyzing everything else about him. Not once in those meetings or even in Bradley’s lectures did he feel so naked or deconstructed. In those rooms he’s great at maneuvering those ropes and getting what he wants. But in this room he’s grasping for straws only to see them slide from between his fingers, for what answer could possibly be good enough for Alphonse Elric? What gave Roy the right to so much as think that Edward Elric, biochemical prodigy ready to dive head first into his brimming pharmaceutical career would want anything to do with a womanizing asshole who has done nothing but indulge in all the sins this damned city has to offer?

“No.” Roy confirms, “It was not me who did that. But it was me who pursued him; it was my actions that led to-”

“Shut up.” Ed snarls from the other side of the room, his words slurred from the medications pulsing through his system, “If we want to play the blame game it’s on me. I’m the one who got involve with…that crowd. I was the one so desperate to support Al and myself so I got into some serious shit. I’m the one who let you take me out to those dinners, those weird not-dates. You didn’t make me do anything, Roy. You didn’t do anything, Roy except…I don’t know. You didn’t do anything bad. So for fucks sake stop acting like you did.” He nods to his brother, “And you stop being such an asshole, it’s like a kitten trying to be scary. It’s stupid and it’s not scaring anyone.”

A gentle smile warms Alphonse’s face as he sinks into the wall, “Very well, brother. We’ll stop talking about it.”

Edward nods in agreement then audibly yawns, “Cool. You guys should go do something else with your day other than watch me sleep in this gross hospital room.”

The blond girl laughs softly, “Alright, Ed.” She leaves Alphonse’s side to tend to him one last time. 

Roy watches with slight jealously as she adjusts the sheets around him to contour to his body more comfortably. She smoothens them out quietly, adjusts his hair and kisses his cheek. 

“Rest up” she murmurs as Alphonse gathers his coat off one of the chairs. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ed mutters, he cracks open one eye and smirks at her, “Thanks, Winry.”

“Who else but me is going to take care of your dumb ass when you get into stupid things like these?” she jokes.

He shrugs and doesn’t reply, a strange sight to see Edward not try to get in the last little jab. But it’s just as satisfying to see him finally relax. Roy enjoys seeing his face with a resting expression instead of a passed out one that borders a corpse. Alphonse and Winry ready to leave, Al speaks as he wraps his scarf around his neck, “We’re going to get lunch.” He whispers to Roy, “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

“I would.” Roy replies, “However, I do have work I need to attend to. But if you’d like, I’d like to rain check until dinner if that works for you both?”

Al tosses a glance to Winry who nods in agreement, “Yeah that should be fine.” She smiles, “We’ll meet back here, sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“See you later.” She gives him a small wave as the couple passes by and out the door.

The room is so quiet now except for the hummed ambient sounds of the hospital. Something about it all feels strangely serene. Its as if the entire world is still for a moment. For this moment it is only Roy and Edward in this space simply existing. 

In the bed Ed moves a bit then opens his eyes, medicinally drunken eyes fixate on Roy. His half lidded eyes remind him of their nights together; those memories flood him with longing to be able to touch him like that again. But he knows better. Instead he just smiles back at him, enjoying the adrenaline rush of seeing the same gesture mirrored on Edward’s expression. 

He wonders if Edward may have heard what he said a few days ago, if he knew the three words he said at his bedside. And if he had heard that confession what would that change between them? Roy enjoyed this strange little roundabout love game they have been maintaining, but he knew Riza was right, it was time to cut it off and dedicate himself as much as he can or allow it to drift away. The thought of letting him go hurts too bad. To say goodbye to that golden mess, to weird unspoken dates and especially to all of the other strangely wonderful things he’s learnt to love and want through spending time with Edward. 

“So. How long are you going to stand there before you…”

A hand curls over the bed railing, Roy didn’t realize he crossed the room until he’s bent over the bed tenderly joining their lips for the first time in too long. Immediately a breathy sigh passes through Ed’s lips as he reaches up with his uninjured arm to hold Roy’s jaw. The feel of his fingers on his skin shocks him at how much he wants him. Nothing in this world could compare to being able to take him to bed, envelope Ed in his arms and prevent the world from invading the privacy of the bedroom. The kisses continue, neither of them really wanting to give up. Roy missed the softness of Edward’s lips, the roughness of his hands and how he even smelled. He gently brushes some of that unwashed blond hair then rests his hand on the back of Edward’s head. 

Breaking off the kisses he rests his forehead against Ed’s, those same three words swimming behind his lips. So badly he wants to say them again, but something knows it’s not right. He would have to wait to say them again at a later time, at a better time. For now staying like this was more than enough. 

\---

The past few months have been strange muddled blurs, a whirlwind that’s kept a steady and strange pace. Four months flew past at an alarming pace yet were strangely stagnant, like how time meanders on a Sunday afternoon. You could spend what felt like an eternity wrapped in the safety of your couch and be surprised that what felt like hours was only twenty minutes. 

Edward was released from the hospital a month after the shooting. He had complication after complication with infections and surgeries to repair the damage done of having a gun shot into his body at point blank. For what he’s been through the medical staff would continuously praise him to the point that Roy was certain that praise of any sort would send Ed into a bad mood. Ed took to physical therapy quite well, his teeth gritting and grinding through the exercises but he would only complain in private. Winry would be at his side to play with his hair and watch ‘Friends’ re-runs on the tiny hospital TV and Alphonse would pop in with magazines, books and lab work for Edward to play with. Roy would be in with takeout dinners to save Ed’s taste buds from the same dishes from the hospital kitchen. He would also be there to satisfy Edward’s appetite in other measures, surprised at what enthusiasm lurked in that hospital bed when they were alone. 

He was discharged to the care of Alphonse much to Roy’s hidden disappointment, but he silently admitted defeat, knowing Al was much more qualified to handle Edward during his recovery than Roy would be. Roy was overrun with meetings, meaningless dinners and even more meetings. When he wasn’t busy filling Bradley’s shoes he was finding himself in the Bradley home pouring over paperwork and strategy outlines making sure he wasn’t making any mistakes. Much to Roy’s surprise he and Bradley worked much better than before, he would venture so far as to say they were developing a friendship. Roy would even take to watching their son, Selim, when Bradley had to make runs to the hospital to tend to his own wife, and Roy would even make those trips with the family. 

What Roy enjoyed most with Bradley was learning about how deep his past was, how he and Van Hohenheim had spent time in college together, how their friendship wavered and finally flat lined to a strange companionship. He enjoyed hearing tidbits of Edward’s childhood through Bradley, knowing that Edward was a highly intelligent child and through his one time meeting him Bradley could see a great future for him. But in that future brought grimness to Bradley’s reflections in how should Edward and his brother succeed in progressing treatments for leukemia that there would be people waiting to literally wipe them out, for a treatment would knock out pre-existing businesses. Roy listened carefully to the words of caution and how to best protect him should it even have to come to that. 

The company is thriving. Hughes finally earned that promotion and got that office down the hall he’s been hungrily eyeing. It was heartwarming to hear his daughter’s shouting in celebration at how large it is as she helped him decorate it. Riza and Roy have finally moved past that weird dip in their friendship of her admitting her feelings for him. It was short lived due to her having another option she was already fairly involved with, a mystery woman that Roy still knows next to nothing about and Riza stands fairly firm on how that’s going to stay until their relationship stabilizes. 

Between all of that Roy was busy focusing on the relationship between he and Edward. Every weekend he was in the Brooklyn apartment shared by Alphonse, Winry and Edward. Each weekend since he went home, Roy would be in that home Friday night after work like clockwork. Every time he spent the weekend would change depending on Edward’s mood or state of health, but it was always endearing and filled with intimate moments Roy couldn’t have even dreamed of having before those weekends started. They would always start in the living room watching TV and making small talk or sharing a meal with Alphonse and Winry if they were there. Then through the night the couple would migrate back to Ed’s room and just lie together in his cramped twin bed that somehow held both of their bodies. 

Together they’d just relax in one another’s arms talking or napping, sometimes Roy would be stretched out on the bed and Ed would be stooped over his desk furiously working on his research and other scientific things Roy would never both try learning. The weekends would bleed all into what felt like a mini vacation locked away in that apartment. Sometimes on lonely nights Roy would close his eyes and try to imagine his palatial home was that warm little nest and that it was Edward’s incredibly long hair splayed on his chest, not the bed sheets. 

Speaking of that hair, it had grown longer through Ed’s hospital and time at home. Before it would collect around his collarbones if let down, now it stretched to his mid-chest. Not that Roy was complaining, it would just leave his mind wandering dark and dirty places when he’d play with it the owner of that blond mess would be fast asleep atop or beside him. 

He hated leaving Brooklyn Monday morning, he hated returning to his large, lonely home. He hated that he’d feel so alone he’d purposely get drunk enough to fall asleep on Hughes’ couch or ‘accidentally’ fall asleep during he and Riza’s Game of Thrones nights. He hated but loved how much that little apartment felt like home, how Edward felt like home so quickly. 

So badly he wishes for Edward to move in with him, for he knew Alphonse and Winry loved that apartment too much to be wooed out of it. Through a lunch conversation with Alphonse and Winry, he knew they wouldn’t complain if Edward moved out, hell they were the ones who suggested Roy make the spare key. 

The key sits contently on the counter; it’s brass color dully reflecting the bedroom lighting as Roy adjusts the bowtie around his neck. Tonight was the annual gala for Central Brokerage and normally it’s a night Roy is more than eager to begin, for usually it means a few hours soaked in alcohol-induced bliss and trying to get in bed with the hottest girl he could find. However, this year so much changed. This year he couldn’t wait for it to end so he could drive to that little apartment in Brooklyn and nervously present Edward with a key. 

It’s just a piece of metal, nothing to be afraid of. At least that’s the mantra he sets on an endless repeat as he continues to ready himself in the mirror. The suit fit a bit tighter than it usually does, Roy has found himself in his at-home gym late at night needing to burn off stress or thoughts of Edward in order to sleep. He needed to not only be mentally exhausted by physically exhausted in order to sleep the days he wasn’t in Brooklyn. 

He smoothens out the tux against his chest. It’s perfectly ironed, Riza made sure of that. It’s probably new. It’s crisp, nice and pristine. Last year it would always win him the many coveted eyes of his newest nightly game but now it’s nothing more than a nice decoration draped on his frame. He wonders if Edward would approve or if he’d be lingering in the background of Roy’s reflection spouting cocky half-hearted put-downs. Maybe he’d be turned on by it, Roy knew he was immensely turned on by Edward in a suit at the Yao Gala a few months back. Maybe Ed’s hands would be roaming and smoothening out nonexistent wrinkles in order to get a feel.

These are thoughts that are going to haunt him all night, he’s sure of it. Thoughts of ‘what if’s’ are all that’s going to motivate his eyes to check his watch to see how much longer until he can catch that cab back to that damned apartment. 

\---

“Riza really outdid herself this year.” Hughes boasts behind a flute of champagne, his eyes glittering with delight, “I’ve never seen this venue so nice!”

“Yes, well, she has her reasons I’m sure.” Roy muses as he allows his eyes to drink up the sight of Riza’s mystery woman loitering at her side clad in an illegally tight dark red dress.

Hughes caught the memo, “I bet she did. So I guess this completely extinguishes all and any chances of you two…”

“That died a long time ago. But to answer your question blatantly, yes, it’s extinguished.”

“And now she’s with…”

“Some Victoria’s Secret model from some sex club. Yep.”

“I was going to say a woman, but okay.”

“I’m dating someone nearly ten years my senior, and Riza dating a woman is all I’ve heard tonight.” To be completely honest, that news settled Roy’s nerves to no end. He knew Edward was more than ready for the ‘Nobody Scientist and Billionaire’ headlines to dissolve away into tabloid history hell. 

“It’s Riza. Dating. She could’ve brought a man and it would still be just as much of a buzz. If you wanted to keep basking in your limelight, Roy Boy, you should’ve brought your jailbait boyfriend.”

“He’s not my-”

“He is.” Hughes grins from behind the now empty glass, “You know he is.”

Another unfortunate truth-the weight of the spare key was proof enough of that. 

“We haven’t officially stated to one another that we are each other’s…significan-”

“Boyfriend.”

“If you must insist on using that word…” Roy mutters.

Riza caught Roy’s eye across the party. She flashes him a gentle smile then speaks to her date. They both make their way to the duo in seconds. Dressed in an elegant white floor length gown and with her hair down, Riza never looked lovelier to Roy. He’s flooded with a strange sense of nostalgia of the countless events they’ve attended as one another’s cop-out dates, and now here she stands beside someone that isn’t him. 

“Hughes, Roy, how’s the evening treating you?” she greets.

“Can’t complain.” Hughes beams.

“Well.” Roy replies. 

“I wanted to congratulate you on your speech at the opening of the gala.” Riza’s deep brown eyes sweep up Roy’s attention, “Granted, I wish you told me before going off the speech I wrote, but it was inspiring to say nonetheless. Many people are commending it even now.”

He shrugs, “It just happened. I apologize for wasting your time on the original presentation.”

“Not at all.” She gestures warmly to the woman beside her, “I also came over to formally introduce my date, Lust.”

“Lust?” Hughes raises a brow.

The woman in question extends a hand, firmly grasping Hughes’, “My mother was into some weird things when I was born. It’s a pleasure.”

Roy is next to experience her near death grip of a handshake, “A lovely name. Thank you for joining us this evening.”

“Thank you for hosting such an extravagant event.” She evenly replies, “Your speech was rather inspiring, Mr. Mustang. It’s kind of you to donate all of tonight’s funds to charity.”

“Well, I certainly have more than enough. With the company making more than ever I figure we may as well put it into something other than our wallets or Wall Street.”

“It is a kind gesture and a great beginning of a nice tradition.” 

The band’s music switches up to a 20’s inspired cover of some popular song. It catches Lust’s attention causing her to beam at Riza, the sheer radiance from that woman nearly slapping anyone nearby in the face. “Babe.” She excitedly whispers, “It’s the song from…”

“I hear it.” Riza grins, she gives Hughes and Roy a parting glance, “See you on the dance floor, boys.”

She waves goodbye with a very eager date nearly running in stilettos to dance. Once they reach the swaying crowd of people, Lust props her arms on Riza’s shoulders. Her usually pinched expression melts to adoration as they fall in step with the tune effortlessly. Riza’s demeanor shifts to something Roy’s never seen before, to a gentle delicate stance that treats the woman before her as if she’s the most breakable, precious thing in the world. They interlock perfectly with one another as they easily are engulfed by the growing crowd on the floor as the music continues to charm more couples to the area. 

From what seems to be nowhere, Gracia floats to Hughes’ arm. She too shone brightly with all of the well-groomed attendee’s tonight with a deep purple gown and her hair freshly done and still reeking of the salon. Her gentle smile cuts Hughes like a hot knife does butter as she gleams at him, “Honey, it’s such a nice song. We should dance.”

“Ah, baby this song’s too slow for me, you know I’m more of an upbeat kind of dancing guy!” Hughes nearly sparkles, already allowing her to pull him away.

“Then let me lead.” Gracia teases.

They leave without so much of a goodbye, but all three of them are so close they don’t need simple formalities such as greetings and partings. With a heavy yet happy heart Roy observes his best friend be seduced to a fumbling idiot on the dance floor. But despite his flaws, his two left feet and too wide of a smile, the amount of love and adoration in Gracia’s eyes is the sort of look everyone wants at least once in their lifetime. 

Hughes and Gracia certainly stand out like sore thumbs, but they’re sore thumbs happy and in love.

This is another first, being alone at a formal event, surrounded by the richest Manhattan has to offer, with women and men dripping in the finest clothing and jewelry all ghosting past him as if he doesn’t exist. Strangely enough, Roy enjoys it. For once in his life he’s the odd one out left only to observe the finer things in life. 

“You know you look pretty miserable just standing and watching like that.” A voice he knows better than his own remarks from his peripheral. Abruptly turning around he sees the smug face of the man that’s haunted his every other thought all night dressed in that same damned tux from the Yao Gala with his damn hair pulled back in that ponytail that could drive Roy up a wall. “I thought you were supposed to be a womanizer or something, not some sap.”

He can’t help but laugh out of the sheer lack of any other natural response, “You fucking bastard.”

“Most people say hello.” 

The gap between them is closed. Roy has him gathered in his arms where he should be. He holds him gently so not to hurt his still recovering shoulder but tight enough to feel his body against his. His hand ensnares in that fucking golden whip spilling from the back of Ed’s head, “Hello.” He murmurs against his lips then kisses him again, and again before stopping for another break, “What are you doing here?”

“To attend my boyfriend’s fancy ball or whatever.” He steps back a bit to formally offer a hand rather professionally. Roy knew Edward well enough to know this was practiced, probably though YouTube videos, “You can’t show up date-less to your own pompous-ass Disney land ball, princess.”

“You’re such an asshole.” Roy laughs as he accepts his hand, allowing Edward to lead them to the dance floor, “Should you be out in your condition?”

“One night’s not going to break my shoulder, Mustang. Plus if I can handle fucking you I think I can handle some socialite dancing.”

“Is that so?”

“I also took a shit ton of pain meds.” He confesses as their hands rest on the appropriate places of each other’s bodies, “Plus I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to see you in a suit.”

“Is that all?”

He reddens a bit, “…and we’re out of food.”

“Oh my god, Edward.”

“What?! It’s not my fault that your fancy rich person parties have nice fucking food.”

Another incredulous laugh at this man’s behavior, at how he rambles, at how he apologizes for nothing, “I love you.”

Golden eyes widen to a dangerously large size. Roy’s heart slams into his stomach as he tightens his hold on Edward, as if to stop him from possibly running away from the unintentional confession. Pulse at an alarmingly high rate Roy wets his lips as he wracks his brain for a way to possibly fix this. But to his surprise Edward’s shocked, defensive demeanor quickly fades away as it’s his turn to laugh.

“I love you too, Roy.” He mutters, glancing to the floor then back to the man before him. 

Hearing those words sends Roy to a new level of high he had no idea he could possibly be able to reach. Everything is still, alive but unreal all at the same time. There isn’t a large party happening around them, it is just Edward and Roy dancing a bit off beat to the song filtering in from the band. Only they exist here and only they matter. Nothing could tear him from savoring everything about this moment, how Edward’s eyes reflect the lighting, or how deep a gold his hair looks or how handsome he is in that tux. Most importantly he refuses to let go of this warmth in his chest, this emotional high intermingled with adrenaline and various other components rushing through his system at the beautifully harsh reality that Edward Elric, the bartender he mistakenly fell in love with fell in love with him back. 

He brings Ed closer to him and rests his forehead against Ed’s. Inhaling he memorizes the scent of Edward’s cologne, how soft his burnt right hand is against his palm, how smooth the fabric of the tux is and how warm his body is. Everything about him is intoxicating, it always was intoxicating and always will be intoxicating. 

“It makes me happy to hear that, Edward.”

A wide smile as he shakes his head, “…same.”

“Same.” Roy chuckles as he sighs, the music stops but they continue to sway together, “You always did have a way with words.”

“Shut up.”

Dumb smiles pass back and forth between them as the band starts up another song. Neither of them knows what the song is, neither of them cares. However, the weight of the damned key in Roy's pocket is suddenly light as air. 


End file.
